


Rain World

by KizuRai



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Character Death, Depictions of Death, Emma is a bit of a charming dork, F/F, Family, Monsters, Post Apocalypse AU, Rain, References to Abuse, References to Marital Rape, Some Fluff, flesh-eating bacteria with snoots, so they're cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KizuRai/pseuds/KizuRai
Summary: She remembers the day the world ended.She remembers the scream of terror and the gurgling noise that followed it.She remembers spending days, weeks, trapped in her shelter, afraid of stepping foot outside of it.She remembers when she finally did leave, the world she saw was not how she remembered it. It was silent. And there was no one.She found herself trying to survive day by day, scouring for food and water, protecting herself from other survivors, and fighting against nature.She found herself fearing. Fearing others, fearing the elements, fearing starvation, fearing for her life.She grew to fear'The Rain'.





	1. The Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [powerfulmagics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerfulmagics/gifts), [soundslikehope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundslikehope/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rainworld [Fanart]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770286) by [powerfulmagics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerfulmagics/pseuds/powerfulmagics). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Welcome to my Supernova. The 2nd fic that I've ever completed, as well as the longest thing I've written in my life.  
> I hope the tags don't scare off too many people and I hope you all enjoy yourselves while you're reading.
> 
> But first things first **powerfulmagics** made the cover art for my fic ([Check it out here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770286)) :) This is my first SQSN so it was really cool to get such a well known swen artist to make something for me.  
>  So yeah, be sure to check out her art as well.
> 
> Also, _(lol I told you I was gonna do this)_ :  
> Please read **soundslikehope** 's SQSN fic. Do it, do it now. Forget about this fic and go to hers and read that.  
> She's got a sassy Regina and an Emma that's just trying to stay sane and it's got such quirky dialogue, it's great, go read it.  
> It's also an Enchanted AU fic too and I hear that's fun.  
> Hope has helped me with my fic so damn much, I don't think I would have finished otherwise. She's been one hell of a support and managed to be my best and favourite beta out of the army of betas I asked. She also fixed a few inconsistencies here and there as I lost my mind over chapter 7 (that damn chapter 7) So you all need to do yourselves a favour and read her fic.  
> ^ I wrote all this and then realized that Soundslikehope's fic is going to come after mine LOL but read it when it releases HAHAHA
> 
> I think that's all the major thank yous for now (there's a list at the end), so without further ado, enjoy this post apocalyptic world fraught with danger.

 

She never really understood the appeal of movies where the story involved a post-apocalyptic world. Why would anyone think about that? What is the point of imagining the end of the world? But now that she’s at that point, she realizes, maybe she should have paid more attention. Maybe she would have an idea of what to do by now. But then again, they say everything’s better in hindsight.

 

She now finds herself in a world where she has to eat things she normally wouldn’t dare to eat. When she finds a bag of Doritos, she gets genuinely excited, and then she finds herself rationing the small bag of snacks because she’s completely uncertain of when she will get her next meal.

 

It’s something she has learned and adapted into doing in order to survive.

 

She’s walking around in one of her scavenging runs when she notices a glint off a box high up on a dilapidated two-story house. The house looks like one of those small cross-sectional models where they cut out a portion to show the inside. Except this is life sized, and the cut is not nearly as clean.

She can’t find any viable way to reach up top, the staircase—or what is left of it—has caved in and broken down. It is as useful as the pile of rocks the other side of the house has become. She looks around for any sort of long plank of wood or something she could use to reach the box.

 

She wanders the area, circles the perimeter, but eventually gives up on knocking it down after coming back empty handed and focuses on stacking cement blocks. If there is one positive thing she obtained from ‘the end of the world’, it’s the arm and leg muscles she had been meaning to invest time in getting before this whole thing happened. She never had time for the gym before; even if she did, she was never really allowed to have much private time outside.

 

She used to scoff at yoga moms before, but to be fair, their reasoning for staying fit never appealed to her in the slightest.

 

But those are thoughts she doesn’t even want to go _near_ to thinking about as she’s heaving herself up on a tall ledge. The cement is chipped and a little brittle under her hands as she grasps onto the edge but it manages to hold when she grapples the ledge and clambers on top. She looks down, momentarily wondering how she’s going to get down without spraining her leg but focuses back on digging out the box.

 

She lifts up more debris; the roof is partially collapsed but luckily enough it managed to save the box from the elements. When she finally pulls it out she wipes the top, ecstatic to find that it’s a medical kit. She puts it under her arm and tries to climb back down as graceful as she can with one arm stuck to her side. She can’t afford to get hurt, there are no hospitals she can go to if she sprains a leg or breaks a bone. There is no one around to help her if she bleeds out on the floor.

 

Supposedly, an estimated amount of 99% of the population has died.

 

Since then she has been on her own, scouring for food even while sharp pains of hunger pierced her stomach, dodging other survivors who happened to be passing through, and finally, the _rain_.

 

A splatter of water falls on her cheek and it burns and itches; the next thing she hears is the piercing noise of a siren. She knows she does not have long before she could die so she runs back to her shelter. She misses a medium sized rock and stumbles over it, crashing her side into a still vertical wall. She curses—because this situation has added much more profanities in her life, _mother would be so proud_ —and pushes herself up and moves on. It’s more than drizzling now and she’s mentally calculating the time it takes from where she’s standing to back to her shelter and she wonders if she can get back in time before the monsoon.

 

Because once it really rains, there’s no way of surviving.

 

She’s gasping out in pain from the stinging burn of the water as it slides down her hand, leaving an angry red mark as it passes. It’s not so much as a burn as it feels more like it’s eating away at her skin. Like it’s digging, _digging_ its way past and slaughtering her nerves—the pain receptors that get in the way. She can’t stand the feeling, like ants crawling and biting along her face, her hands, the only two places exposed and she wants it gone, she wants the feeling gone. She wants to wipe her hands on her pants but knowing how much the material probably already absorbed, it would only make it worse.

 

She sees the entrance marker of her shelter. It’s a little ways from the remains of her house but it’s been more of a home to her than her house has ever been. Her side hurts, there must be a bruise. Living in this type of world has helped her be more than aware of the condition of her body. But her body is tough, she knows it is; it has been through far worse bruises than this, ones done by human hands, ones done through drunkenness and anger, and she finds a bruise done by a stupid trip-up much more preferable.

 

She almost slips on one of the stone steps leading up into the stone building that houses the shelter. Much of the building is gone already, melted away from the rain, but it’s still a nice cover to keep puddles from staying in the vicinity of the shelter.

 

Most people who built a bunker or a shelter to fend off the rain, built it so the pathway would lead you downwards. She had made it so the path would go up and then down to almost make a little ravine for the water. Then, the floors around the hatch lead upward in a small slope so none of the water would stay around it. There is then a drain around the edges that leads the water out and far away from the building.

She had an architect friend who helped suggest the idea and built it for her. One of her very few friends, one she hopes is still alive somewhere but she’s been by their home and she doesn’t hold much hope in it.

 

There’s a hatch that requires two hands to turn and lift so she puts down the med kit and pulls with all her might. She might need to put that med kit to work almost immediately if she can get down in time. For now, half of the stone building is keeping her out of the rain as she hears the click of the hatch being released and pulls up to open it.

 

She grasps onto the box once more and slips down into the opening of the hatch, pulling it down with her as she goes. She twists and locks it out of habit more than anything and she quickly finds a towel to wipe her face and hands. She tears off her clothes, noticing the holes in them and knows she’ll have to patch them up again. At least they managed to hold long enough for her to get away.

 

She sits on her small bed, weary and exhausted and she looks around wondering when this became her life.

 


	2. The Monster

She wakes up, wondering when she fell asleep; her stomach growls, demanding her attention and her thoughts so she gets up and opens a can of soup. Her shelter is fairly well stocked since she went by here so often even before the rain but it’s still a limited supply that she hopes she can find a way to replenish before it’s too late.

 

She has already traveled everywhere around the vicinity and she is hesitant about going outside of that but knows that she has already drained any viable resources and needs to get out of her comfort zone if she is to survive. She doesn’t want to though, this space has been a safe haven for her for so long and she still has food, still has some gas cans for her portable fire stove that she found once at a Home Depot, and she still has a _bed_.

 

The chances of her finding another nice bed are slim to none; she thinks any tall five star hotels have probably already toppled over—she’s looked out over the horizon and saw very little. She normally would not be caught dead at a motel, but with actual death looming over her, she finds she can swallow up her pride; fortunately, small motels were more than likely melted over due to shoddy workmanship of an already sketchy establishment.

 

She never wanted her rich life anyway, the pride that has been instilled in her since birth was more of a burden than anything. ‘Luxury’ was something she was born into, and something she was caged in, and she always dreamt of running away, never did she think this would have been her way of escape.

 

The can’s contents sizzle and pop over the gas stove fire and she tries to shine a spoon as much as she can before she digs in. She used to use a pot to transfer the can’s contents into, but then couldn’t find a nice, efficient way of cleaning it without using up all the water so she resorted to just eating out of the throwaway cans. The mush is scalding and burns her tongue but when she swallows it down she feels her body grateful for the sustenance.

 

She stands still for a moment and hears only silence; the rain has stopped and she can go out for another quick run before it turns dark. The dark can be frightening, she used to be afraid of it before, but that fear was nothing compared to now.

The darkness hides the rain and the many things that lurk within them, it obscures sight, making it easy to trip and fall, it tricks the senses making her paranoid and panic over things needlessly. Overall, it is not something she wants to experience again unless she has to.

 

She mourns when her spoon comes up empty and she’s already mentally planning on licking the can clean when it cools; she has to hold herself back from grabbing another can of food because there’s only so much she has left.

 

Finally deciding upon whether she should head out for a quick supply run or not, she throws on a new jacket—one that doesn’t have holes—slings on a backpack, and makes her way to the hatch. With both feet planted on the stairs, she uses her upper body strength to twist at the waist. When she hears the click of the latch opening, she pushes up, swings the hatch open as she lifts herself up.

 

After closing and locking the hatch again she stands there and listens. It’s quiet and cold and autumn must be ending soon. She will need to find herself some usable coats and needs to stock up on a lot more food for the coming winter.

 

She finds herself thinking that nature had gotten a lot of things right despite their lack of technology. Hibernation and migration? A great way to overcome the winter and nature’s way of waiting out the rotation of the Earth. And it’s during an apocalypse that she finds herself drawing from nature. Unfortunately, migration is out of the question but she can still find enough food to help wait out the cold and just hibernate in the shelter.

 

Normally, in these types of situations, she would have had to contend with other people when it came to finding food—she assumes—but the rain had eaten it all away instead and she finds herself fighting with time more than anything. Due to the lack of electricity, a lot of the fresh foods could not be maintained and had rotted away while exposed to the air. Any remaining insects probably had a field day but even they didn’t live long the next time it rained.

 

She remembers that there’s a convenience store a few blocks away. It’s a little out of her usual patrol range but she has already picked everything clean from any nearby grocery stores during her last supply run. The day for her to move is getting closer and closer and it’s scary to think about. She will have to look for another shelter, otherwise she will not last long and she didn’t know if there were any government built ones nearby. The location and ‘a slot to stay’ in one of those were given through a lottery and people were greedy enough to keep it a secret.

 

She pads slowly across the street, careful not to create too much noise, never knowing what could be out there, especially in a new environment; she’s learned to be cautious unfortunately from experience.

 

She glances up and notices one of the rain sirens built on one of the smaller buildings. It barely clings to the brick it was drilled in but it was still suspended high up in the air. The glass covering surrounding it has melted inward slightly but they were built smartly, with a sharp angle upward to cut through the rain, and letting it slide off the glass quickly to not stay on it was the only reason the sirens have managed to hold on so well for so long. They’re also powered by small solar panels that are also covered and angled with glass to prevent damage. These were small enough to fit in the budget with the rain countermeasures the government had provided.

 

The rain siren would announce when it was raining; it sounded stupid at the time—why would she need to know when it was raining when she could already see it? But sometimes she didn’t know, like if she was in her shelter or if she was deep enough under a lot of debris that the rain couldn’t get through. It also causes enough of a distraction.

 

She sees the half caved-in convenience store at a street corner and cautiously jogs over to it. The tacky neon sign is dark and split due to the force of half the building collapsing. The door was completely crushed but there is a broken window that’s big and wide enough for her to enter from. She knocks down some of the sharp glass edges that are still sticking upward so that easing a leg over the window sill won’t slice it open in the process. She winces when she hears the crunch of the glass she steps on when her foot lands on the other side but quickly draws her other leg over.

 

It’s not a big store by any means, but she’s lucky that the side that was crushed was the refrigerated foods because she wouldn’t have been able to grab those anyway. She starts by grabbing bagged snacks and packs them into her bag; a lot of them are filled more with air than food so she has to open them a little and let the air out before crushing it at the bottom of her bag. She ignores the Cheetos because the volume it took up did not justify the small amount it fills her stomach.

She spots a bag of Bugles and she’s always wanted to try one of these as she’s seen some kids play with these on their hands when she was younger. There’s no longer a mother that tells her that snacks are unhealthy and there’s no husband telling her she’ll get fat, so she grabs and scrunches it up in her bag out of sheer defiance and moves on to soft drinks and water. Water was the better choice but she does succumb and grab a can of coke or a bottle of Gatorade once in a while.

 

She will admit, the end of the world has allowed her to indulge in all the things she’s never had the chance to indulge in.

 

Her ears pick up something moving outside and she freezes while there’s a bottle of water still in her hand. She curses inwardly and wonders if she took note of any puddles on the ground.

 

No, because she was so caught up looking at the siren.

 

Angry at herself, she gently sets the bag down and quietly fills it up with as much as she can. When she zips it up, it’s agonizingly slow and cautious as she constantly keeps an ear out for anymore sounds.

 

There’s a bubbling noise and her head snaps to the window. She freezes and completely stops breathing because she’s staring at the eyeless maw of one of the creatures created during the Flood. It’s gloopy and grotesque, and the skin’s consistency is like water, constantly shifting, constantly moving with the colour of dirty water and it’s facing her direction as a clump of it falls against the glass pieces. The glass sizzles and bubbles, the material breaking down in on itself as the creature’s remains eats its way through the glass then proceeds to melt down a portion of the store’s linoleum floor before it evaporates.

 

She hears her heart drum loudly in her ears and she wills it to slow down and stop beating so harshly against her chest.

 

The creature faces away and slowly slithers off, the bottom of its maw carelessly scraping against the rest of the pointed glass still stuck on the window sill, leaving… nothing, really, because the rain and these creatures dissolve everything they touch and all of it just evaporates. She takes in a much needed breath when she sees the thing gone but she still crouches there for a few minutes before she begins to leave.

 

Light is quickly dying and the added knowledge that one of those rain monsters were prowling around made the idea of walking around at night even more undesirable. She jogs back in the direction she came from, trying to soften her feet landing against the pavement and lessen the sound of each step. Her bag is heavy with the liquid from all the cans and bottles sloshing around inside and she finds it hard to keep balanced the more she jogs. She turns at a corner too sharply and the inertia makes her fall over. She lands heavily upon chips and the sound of metal cans knocking against each other cuts heavily through the air.

 

She lies there, on her side, for a moment, afraid to even breathe. Her ears are hypersensitive and she’s desperately straining to hear if anything was moving in the darkness. It’s when she decides she should get up and continue moving that she hears the telltale sound of sizzling asphalt. She scrambles up, knowing her position was already compromised and making more noise won’t make much of a difference. She hears a wet thump against the ground near her and she runs.

 

These things are usually quiet but when you’re running from them they begin to snarl, _and she hears snarling._ It’s a deep rumbling noise that both does and does not sound like any animal she knows.

 

She runs off the sidewalk and onto the road and stumbles at the height difference but she sees a rundown building that she can use for cover. Half of it had toppled over but it’s still managing to stand as a two-story. Wildly looking around, she spots a rusted metal door and she sprints for it—blood rushing in her ears, sharp pants of breath in her lungs, the liquids in her bag sloshing about and the ever constant snarl chasing her.

 

She practically rams the door when she gets there and it swings open with a bit of resistance. She runs in whichever direction, not really having a plan on how to evade the monster but she doesn’t exactly have the luxury of standing and observing her surroundings.

It looks like she’s in an office; she passes by half rain eaten chairs and broken desks in cracked cubicles and she ducks down behind one, slowing down and trying to quieten her steps. There’s an open doorway to the stairs with the heavy emergency fire door broken and on the floor. She makes her way in, not knowing where the monster was, not quite hearing the snarling anymore.

 

But as soon as she takes a step on the stairs she winces because the sound reverberates and bounces in the hollow staircase and she hears the snarling once more. In a last minute decision, she swings and tosses her bag off to the side and climbs the stairs as quickly as she can. She can hear the doorway melting and accommodating the monsters size as it tries to get through it and she clambers upward faster. The second floor emergency door is actually intact and still on its hinges; the sound of her pushing against the lever for the door and opening it is horrendously loud but it doesn’t matter anymore.

 

She throws the door closed behind her and hopes it can hold long enough for her to figure a way out of this mess. She’s in what looks like the meeting floor and it’s a spacious floor plan with glass rooms. There’s a few miniature building models in the middle of these glass rooms and she briefly wonders if this company was dealing with construction or real estate.

She also realizes that there is a spotlight in each of the rooms, allowing her to see. There must be a backup generator running on fuel somewhere or it’s solar powered. She has encountered a few of these lights but she doesn’t know how to utilize them for herself. She has her own solar powered light in her shelter but that’s it.

 

She hears the distinct sound of sizzling once more and she jumps away from the door. There’s no time, she doesn’t know how to get out of this situation. She runs into one of the glass rooms and when the door closes behind her she notices that it’s silent. She can’t hear anything from outside the room anymore. She leans her face closer to the walls and sees thick 3 inch glass—an estimation—and maybe, just maybe, she can trap the thing in here. She doesn’t know how though, without being in the room herself, and she looks around.

The room is practically bare barring the table in the middle. The table looks more like a pedestal; it doesn’t have legs and is just a rectangular box leading straight to the floor. The miniature on the table resembles a high rise with small cars and trees dotting around the land. It’s built on what looks like a hill and the hill has an interesting mesh built into it. She scratches at the hard dark mesh wondering why it looks so familiar.

 

Suddenly it clicks.

 

She quickly looks around on the table, her hand smacking at it as if it would spit out some secret. Finally she finds a switch and immediately flips it; loud ambient sounds of birds, cars, and people talking sputters out of the mesh speakers and fill the room and she smiles – her face felt entirely unused to the motion.

 

Her head swings back to the emergency door and she sees a small hole beginning to form in the middle and knows she doesn’t have much time before the thing forces its way in. She needs something to prop the glass door open and she looks around and finds nothing.

She hits herself in the head when she realizes that the answer was right in front of her and she rips the model building off the fake hill and hears the sudden change in noise. Gone are the sounds of birds and children playing, and instead are the sounds of static, sharp and loud bouncing around the room.

 

The sound gives her a headache as she pushes the glass door open and practically smashes the model against the bottom of it. The door barely manages to stay in place and she sighs in relief.

 

She runs to the glass room beside it and hides behind the table in there. The monsters, she’s found, are blind, but appear to be attracted to noise. Despite that, she still doesn’t want to risk it; the idea of standing out in the open while a weird rain monster crawls around sounds terrifying. She peeks her head around to look at the staircase door and the hole is big enough to fit her leg through.

At first she thinks she still has plenty of time but then she sees it twist and mold its way through the hole—falling through it like water—and the door only hisses and melts as the liquid monster contacts with the material until it dribbles out and falls on the other side of the door, on _her_ side of the door.

 

It reforms into its original shape which is like a ball of water splattered on the floor with its skin in a state of constant movement, and a large gaping maw to bite and consume things.

 

The monster is visibly attracted to the noises made in the other glass room and she silently cheers and breaks out the proverbial champagne. It leaps inside the room and begins to viciously attack the table. She runs and slides her way out of the room she’s in and knocks the door closed. She no longer hears anything coming from the monster but she watches as the slime bites and shakes the pedestal like a toy, melting it down until there is nothing left.

 

She watches in fear as the monster circles the enclosed space, rubbing itself against the glass to no effect—much to her relief—and when the monster appeared to be satisfied at the noise being gone she watches as it finally liquefies again back into a puddle.

 

And she sighs, _oh_ she sighs.

 


	3. Taking a Life

She’s downstairs, picking up the bag she left behind earlier at the staircase and it’s dark inside. She stumbles over a few chairs in the office area and considers what she can do. Walking outside might be dangerous now that it’s night, but staying means staying in the same building with a monster upstairs and if it rains she’ll be exposed to it. The building looks sturdy enough and the chairs were more than likely melted from the Flood, not the rain that happens periodically. Still, she doesn’t want to take any chances.

 

She feels her way across the walls to the entrance of the building and notices that the door is gone—all the more reason she should probably leave. It’s dark though, very dark, and the days will only get darker the closer it gets to winter. She wonders if the monsters will freeze in the ice cold weather.

 

The only source of light she has is the moon and she mentally berates herself for not having the foresight to bring a flashlight. She never likes using flashlights, it gives her position away like a homing beacon, not to the monsters because they couldn’t even see, but to the other survivors.

 

As she’s making her way back to her shelter, she hears yelling echoing in the night and she panics. There’s a mountain of debris somewhere off to the side of her and she ducks down behind it. She can see several beams of light—most likely from flashlights, which only really proves her point—waving around off in the distance. They appear to be heading her way and she’s angry. She _just_ got through one crisis but apparently life will never give her a break and continue to throw trouble at her at every turn.

 

She can’t understand what they’re yelling about but it seems like they’re searching for something or someone. She has to find somewhere to hide and she’s resigned to the fact that she is not going to get a good night’s sleep tonight.

 

There is an abandoned bookstore to her left, practically across the road from the office she just came out of and she scuttles over, trying not to knock any debris down or kick a rock too loudly.

When she gets into the building she questions if this was a good idea; she can barely see and the middle of the building appears to have collapsed, causing everything to crumble inward and turn maze-like. She traverses her way past fallen book stands and shelves—hands outstretched, stumbling over everything—and she follows the broken ceiling around to a crevice.

 

After looking around—though she doesn’t know why she did that when she couldn’t see—to check if there is anyone following her, she attempts to squeeze under and through all the debris to a back room on the other side. She hopes the hard-to-reach area will deter anyone from trying to reach there, but to be safe, she feels around for anything else she can use to hide under.

 

Suddenly, she encounters something soft like flesh and she stumbles back, almost yelping. The figure immediately reacts and pushes her against the piece of broken ceiling acting as a wall, covering her mouth. She panics and she struggles, but the person holds her down and presses her more firmly against the wall.

“Shut up!” the person hisses, and Regina notices that it’s a woman, but that doesn’t deter her from struggling and she thrashes her body trying to loosen the woman’s grip on her. But the woman just ends up pressing her entire body weight right up against her. “Shit, seriously, you need to _stop_!” And maybe it was the desperate pitch in the woman’s voice, but she suddenly stops struggling and her ears pick up the voices from outside the walls.

 

She sees a beam of light appear from the crevice she had crawled from and project onto the other side of the small space. They are both standing right next to the hole and she inhales sharply, then holds it when she hears footsteps stop right beside them.

The light focuses and sharpens as it sweeps the enclosed space, never hitting them because they are luckily just out of range. Her heart stops and she forgets to breathe when the person behind the wall stands there and contemplates going through the crevice and ending up on their side of the wall.

After what felt like hours, she hears the footsteps hesitantly lead away. She then hears more yelling about looking elsewhere and she feels the grip on her loosen. She takes in a much needed breath and the woman steps away muttering a “Sorry.”

 

It’s dark again and they stand there at an arm’s length from each other before the other woman makes a move to exit the area. “Wait.” Her voice rumbles out of her throat gravelly from disuse as she grabs onto the other woman’s wrist. She feels the woman stop moving and she chalks this up to loneliness but she asks, “Why are they chasing you?”

 

There’s a long moment of silence before the woman finally decides to answer.

 

“A difference in opinion.”

 

It’s wary and guarded, and she wants to interrogate the woman further but she lets go, knowing that she wouldn’t get any answers because she’s the same way and _she understands_. There’s a tug at the corner of her lips as she thinks that, finding some sort of relation from the way they regard each other.

 

“I’m going to head out too.” She decides that they can split up later once they’re both certain the coast is clear. She misses human contact; it’s something she had not realize she missed until now, after having a cordial—somewhat—conversation with someone else. And it’s almost pathetic how much she both wants to leave this woman but wants this woman to never leave her at the same time.

 

She clambers out before the woman can even protest, and the woman eventually just follows in her stead, slowly, cautiously. It’s a momentary truce and an unspoken rule about looking out for each other and even though they’re both probably extremely wary of each other, this truce is their way of survival.

 

They stick their head out of the building and take a cursory glance outside; there’s lights a distance away that they could probably sneak around but it would be tricky. However, there’s no other way and she’s already mapping out the places she can duck and cover.

 

“I guess this is where we split up,” the woman whispers to her, and Regina turns and tries to glean as much as she can with the little moonlight that she has. She gathers that the other woman is slightly taller than her and recalls feeling strength and muscle when she was pinned to the wall from before.

Any other day she would have probably thrown spiteful words at the woman who dared tell her to _shut up_ but in a world such as this, she finds that she’s able to put aside the smaller things and focus on the bigger issues.

 

“Goodbye,” she whispers back, willing to let the woman leave despite the feeling of loneliness settling in her stomach. She nods and she believes the other woman nods back as well. She begins to make her way back to her shelter, she’s already thinking about what she can use to cover the hatch so these proletarians don’t find it. But she doesn’t make it far before she hears a trip, fall and grunt from behind her and she swings her head just in time to see a flashlight point their way.

 

“Fuck.” The other woman clearly summarizes their entire situation. She catches a glimpse of a head full of yellow and horrendously bright red before she’s running over and dragging the other woman by the arm. “Where are we going?” the woman—blonde woman—says in alarm.

 

“My shelter.” And the arm she’s dragging wrenches away from her grasp.

 

“No, that would lead them to your only safe place, we need to go somewhere else.”

 

There’s yelling now, and she can hear them coming closer. More than one beam of light is shining in their direction. “Well, it’s either that way or that building, and that building contains a _damn monster_.” She sees the other woman’s eyebrow quirk at that information and glance back at the group heading towards them.

 

She watches the cogs in the blonde’s head turn before the other woman quickly spits out, “Building. Now.” And it’s tentative trust, but at this point it’s all she has, so they both run for the office building. She shudders when they enter because how is it that she manages to find herself facing a rain monster twice in one night?

 

“Where is it?” the blonde demands and Regina quickly tells her that it’s up on the second floor. They both begin to make their way across the room, patting at the walls and objects around them before finally finding the melted doorway. She bumps into the blonde who stops and stares at the hand that just touched the melted doorway and she can only imagine the grimace and the disgust on her pale face.

 

She yells at the woman to go which shakes her out of whatever mental block she just went through and the blonde sprints up the stairs. She has trouble herself while climbing the stairs a second time today, her backpack filled with liquids weighing her down. She barely manages to catch up before she hears faint yelling follow her from outside the office area. The blonde throws the door open and she’s back in that damn room again with the glass walls and models on pedestals.

 

“Where is it?” the woman nervously demands again and she points into the room with nothing inside, because of course the pedestal had been thoroughly chewed and dismantled at a molecular level. But there, in the middle of the room, is a completely out of place puddle of water and they both know it’s just there, _waiting_.

 

“This must be one of those organizations focused on rain resistant material,” the blonde mumbles beside her, and she looks over in confusion. She wasn’t very caught up in politics; it wasn’t something she was really allowed to do. Her mother said it wouldn’t be good to dabble in it as having a controversial opinion would burn all the bridges and her ex-husband didn’t think women should know about politics.

 

Their eyes catch and the woman surprisingly explains, “You know, the big housing and land projects that would supposedly ‘ _save the people_ ’; most of these just wanted government money but I suppose this one was pretty successful if the floor and glass can hold that thing.” Regina nods, not knowing what to say about that.

 

“How do we…?” She doesn’t even know what they’re doing here but she presumes they are going to use the monster somehow.

 

As if catching and understanding her unsaid words, the blonde nods towards the puddle. “Those things can’t actually see or hear, they’re attracted to vibration so—“ The blonde runs over to the glass wall and slams her body weight against it. They both watch as the glass wobbles and vibrates a little and the puddle instantly forms into the monster as it leaps out and attacks the glass where the blonde had hit it. “Any sort of vibration it feels, it’ll instantly attack.”

 

Before she can say anything, they both hear voices coming from the floor below them and the blonde visibly panics. “Shit,” and the woman paces in thought, “shit, how do we use this.” They hear echoes of footsteps resound in the staircase and she knows there’s no more time.

She thought it was terrifying to stand out in the open with the monster right there, but she’s going to have to swallow her fear. She drags the blonde with her and she pulls the glass door containing the monster with her. The door is a little heavy to open so she lets go of the woman and pulls the door with all her strength. Right as she pulls the glass door open, she hears the emergency door to the room slam open as well.

 

And then, _chaos_.

 

Both she and the woman, hiding in plain sight, stand there as the monster—suddenly free—is instantly attracted to the slamming of the door and leaps straight out at the first man coming through the door.

There’s _yelling_ and _screaming_ and they just stand there, whether in shock or fear or both. Watching, as a man is practically burned alive on the spot as the giant maws of the monster molds around his burly frame and the scream— _god, the scream—_ reminds her vaguely of the screams of terror she heard outside her shelter during the Flood.

It’s a high pitched screech of pain, a scream of bloody murder as the man’s skin sizzles and bubbles and mottles and the monster just goes right through him.

 

Like a gentle wave, slaughtering on touch as it flows past his frame, moving onto the other screaming men running away in terror. They can hear the utter carnage happening both in the staircase and downstairs where the monster is wreaking havoc but all she can focus on is the man before them, on the ground, disintegrating away into the floor.

 

“Help me!” he gurgles out at them and catches their eyes. There’s nothing she can do, she just stares in shock, disbelief, _something_ , and thinks, _we did this_. They were the ones that unleashed that monster. And when the man can no longer speak, his eyes glazing over as death claims him, she falls down on the floor, her legs too shaky to support her.

 

“Hey, hey!” The blonde woman turns her around to face her and not the corpse melting on the floor, “ _Don’t_ —“ and the woman’s voice catches in her throat but she continues after she swallows down what sounds like a sob, “ _don’t_ feel guilty, it was either them or us, you know that.”

 

She hugs herself, a habit she does whenever she feels small. “Do I really?” she chokes out. “How do I know if I saved the right person? _I don’t even_ _know_ you.”

 

The blonde grabs her gently by the shoulders. “No no no no, you _did_ , you saved the right person and I will be forever grateful. Look, lady, they’ve _killed_ before, they killed my friend right before I ran for my life—”

 

“ _And now we’ve killed too._ ”

 

And they both fall silent at that, hearing the cacophonous sounds of screaming and growling from outside. “We should go,” the blonde says after a long moment of silence. Regina nods because she really doesn’t want to stay here anymore. “I guess we’re splitting up?”

Suddenly, reality catches up to her and she realizes that _no_ , she does not want to be alone. She grabs the woman’s wrist, her eyes pleading. She can’t quite say the words, they sound weak enough in her mind, but she wants the woman to stay with her.

 

Another moment, they stare at each other, millions of things being said between them without actually verbally saying a word.The blonde finally nods. “Okay.” Regina’s eyes follow the blonde when the woman stands up. “Okay, let’s go,” the woman says with determination, reaching out a hand to help her up. She takes it and with a bit of effort, she manages to stand.

 

They both slowly make their way downstairs and pointedly avoid the bodies when they can but the smell of burnt flesh is too strong to ignore. She wants to gag but there’s no time right now so she holds it in to _gag later_.

 

“It’s going to come back and finish these guys off if they haven’t disappeared by then so we should hurry.”

 

She nods and they feel their way back out but it’s considerably easier because dawn is breaking and she can already see a light hue of bright blue over on the horizon.

 


	4. Emma Swan

She leads the woman back to her shelter because they’re both clearly tired and she would feel terrible suddenly leaving her outside while monsters and people trying to kill her are roaming about. They both don’t fully trust each other quite just yet though; she can feel the wariness in the distance they walk from each other.

It isn’t a particularly long trek back but it isn’t by any means short.

 

“Hey,” the blonde beside her huffs out quietly, and she tilts her head a little to acknowledge the woman but doesn’t turn to look or answer in any way. “I’m Emma Swan by the way.”

 

She ponders over her own last name and decides to give the one she had before her marriage. “Regina Mills.”

 

There’s palpable silence afterwards as they both dodge debris and balance on uneven footing but she can finally put a name to a face, have someone she can have conversations with—however stilted—and she finds once again, that despite the awkward pauses and wary glances, she misses companionship. She only hopes she doesn’t regret her decision.

 

“You were pretty cool back there.” And this time she does turn her head to see Emma throw a thumb over her shoulder. Regina raises her eyebrow at the word ‘cool’ but simply nods at her to continue. “I mean, I panicked a _little_ but you were really calm.”

 

She sighs and wonders if the blonde’s nervous rambling is just to fill the silence. “I wouldn’t say I was calm. It was more about how the pros outweighed the cons and I did what I had to do.”

 

“Yeah, but you were the one that trapped that thing in the first place right?”

 

She falls silent after that, having nothing to say to refute the fact. Instead, she points to the marker in front of her shelter. Emma looks across from it, sees the dilapidated mansion, and whistles. “Damn, that’s one hell of a house. Probably weren’t used to living in such a small place afterwards, huh?”

 

And it’s such an offhand comment, a slight and an assumption that the blonde probably didn’t mean anything by. But it irks her in all the wrong ways and she immediately snaps, “Don’t you _dare_ presume what my life was or wasn’t like, not if you still want to have access to my shelter.”

 

The blonde holds up both her hands in defence and stops speaking while Regina focuses on opening the hatch. When they get in, she tears off her jacket and sinks down on her bed. Emma, however, is left standing there awkwardly, sticking her thumbs in her pockets and rolling her knees. She lays down and covers her eyes with her arm, not wanting to deal with the fumbling blonde.

 

After a bit of silence, the blonde decides to stop hovering over her and begins to look around. “Nice bar table,” she remarks, and Regina simply hums in response. “Any drinks to go with it?”

 

She lifts up her arm then and scoffs, “ _No_ , Miss Swan, because not only does alcohol dehydrate you, but it also dulls the senses you require to survive in a world trying to _kill you_.” She watches as the woman reaches into some cupboards, her small pleather red jacket rising up and revealing skin. The jacket is such a garish red and looks horrendously tacky that she wonders how this woman even managed to get away without being spotted. It might as well be a homing beacon with how brightly coloured the jacket is.

 

Seeing her going through the cupboard reminds her of dinner so she rolls off her bed and walks behind the blonde. She feels the blonde tense up from her presence but she doesn’t pay it any mind as she reaches up to grab two cans of food. She looks at the labels— _Chef Boyardee, Beef Ravioli in Tomato and Meat Sauce,_ disgusting _—_ and goes to turn on her gas stove to start heating up the can.

 

“Man, you have a whole system figured out here.”

 

“It’s called being efficient with my time.”

 

“God,” the blonde laughs out, “even the way you speak screams ‘high class’.” But then she immediately looks chastened in fear that she will take it the wrong way and she laughs loudly instead; clearly, Emma has ‘foot-in-mouth syndrome’ and Regina briefly wonders if the “ _difference in opinion_ ” comment from earlier was referring to the blonde’s constant knack for verbally shooting herself in the foot.

 

When the contents of the can are mildly edible, she wraps the can in a tablecloth and sets it down on the bar table; she gestures to it and tells the blonde to eat. Emma looks taken aback but doesn’t question it and walks over with Regina handing her a spoon along the way. “Tell me about yourself, Miss Swan,” she says as she heats up another can.

 

“Sure,” Emma chuckles, “but can we first address this ‘Miss Swan’ business? You sound like my teacher from 3rd grade.”

 

“I make no promises.”

 

“You’re really something else, huh? Well, not much to say about myself really.” Regina watches Emma smile self-deprecatingly to herself, and it’s something she can relate to.

“I work—well, _worked_ —as a bail bondsperson before all this,” Emma gestures wildly around herself, “happened, and thank god too, because I wouldn’t have had the leg muscles to outrun those goons otherwise.” Regina’s curious about what a ‘bail bondsperson’ did for a living but she lets it go in favour of finding out more about the people that chased after them.

 

“Who were those people?”

 

Emma drops her spoon in her can while she contemplates her answer. “They were the guys I shared the government shelter with.” Emma looks up and Regina stares at her questioningly so she continues, “My friend, Neal, he managed to get me into one of those shelters and it was fine, we were all trying to survive, and those guys understood. At first, anyway.”

Emma takes a breath and sighs out deeply, “But then food got sparse and suddenly, me and Neal were to blame for everything. They wanted to kill me—one guy even suggested I ‘be used for their pleasure’.” Regina feels bile rise up at the thought of the woman before her being used in that way. “But Neal got in the way and fought them for my sake and they ended up killing him instead. That’s when I knew I had to run.”

 

It’s then that Regina understands Emma’s comment about how ‘ _they’ve killed as well_ ’. She wonders if the blonde was witness to her friend being mercilessly slaughtered. She feels less bad about letting those men die.

Silence fills the room and the blonde chuckles nervously, “Say, you feeling tired?” and Regina knows a change in topic when she hears one. This may be what their life has become now, but that doesn’t mean either of them are comfortable about the idea of killing or being killed.

 

“We should rest, then we have to go for a supply run.” She’s been up for more than 24 hours and it’s taking a heavy toll on her body. She quickly stuffs the scalding mush of canned food into her mouth and prepares for bed. She stops in front of it however, realizing that there’s only one bed between the two of them.

 

“Uh,” the blonde mutters behind her, “you have a pull-out somewhere I can lie on?”

 

But she’s too angry to hear because she’s so fixated on the thought that _this would have been another way to trap her_. If her ex-husband was alive, he would have made that bed her prison with nowhere to run.She feels hate and anger and a tinge of shame well up in her chest.

There are a lot of things she regrets today, yesterday, maybe even tomorrow, but she will never, _ever_ regret not opening the hatch for that despicable man.

 

“Regina?” She feels a light touch on her arm and she involuntarily recoils, turning and seeing the bewildered look on Emma’s face.

 

“I—” She coughs to mask the break in her voice, “Why don’t we take turns sleeping instead.” The blonde scrutinizes her for a moment and Regina refuses to fidget under the stare but then Emma just shrugs and lets it go.

 

“Why don’t you go first? You look like you’re barely staying on your feet.” And Emma says it with such a rough but gentle tone that she _wants_ to trust her, but trust is hard. She’s had this jaded view of people since she was a child, since her own flesh and blood betrayed her years ago.

 

_Can she trust that this woman won’t kill her in her sleep?_

 

So far the blonde has been fairly understanding of the situation but going to sleep while the other person is awake is a vulnerability Regina isn’t sure she can allow. But—and she sways from fatigue—she really is tired. She can feel the weariness in her bones and at this rate she’ll ruin her already bad health if she doesn’t get some rest soon.

 

Emma gives her this look like she can tell that the battle’s already won and slowly leads her towards the bed. “C’mon, it’ll just be for a moment, just go and catch some z’s.” And maybe it’s the soft lull of the other woman’s voice, or maybe it’s the way her head is steadily going foggy from exhaustion, but Regina finds her head nodding and her hands clambering onto the small bed nook stationed against the shelter wall.

 

As soon as her head hits the pillow, her eyes close and her consciousness fades away.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, it’s dark, and the first thing she does is clap her hands. The shelter suddenly floods with light and she gasps when she hears a groan somewhere beside her.

 

“Oh what? They’re clap on lights? Why the hell did I walk around in the dark then?”

 

She cautiously peeks over the side of her bed and sees a blonde woman— _Emma_ _—_ sprawled on the floor in a nest of blankets. The woman stretches and shoots a wry grin up at her. “Hey, hope you don’t mind, I figured we should both rest at the same time so we’d be good to go for scouting.”

She vacantly nods, half due to her sleep fogged mind and half due to her surprise that the blonde didn’t try to kill her. But she also can’t help but notice the woman’s beauty while she lays sprawled on the floor with her blonde curls fanned out in pretty and circular patterns. Emma has this sort of charm that seems to both entice and annoy her at the same time and Regina is a bit frustrated at the natural beauty and confidence the blonde seems to exude with minimal effort.

 

Shaking her head, she stops her line of thought before it gets on the train of listing every single reason _why_ she finds the blonde attractive. She rolls and carelessly steps over the other woman to make breakfast. Emma protests with a grunt and teasingly smacks one of the legs that almost steps on her as she begins to get up herself.

 

Regina stops and listens. She’s unable to hear any sirens, so she assumes it isn’t raining. It’s been awhile though and it will probably rain soon so it’s best she make a quick food run while that’s still possible. She pops the tab and peels off the cap of a fruit can, beginning to dig into the assorted fruits.

 

Blinking back sleep, Emma yawns and sways unsteadily beside her. “Do I get one?” Regina nods and points to the mountain of cans leaning against one of the shelter walls. The blonde walks over and bends down to get a good look at them. Regina averts her eyes from the woman’s too-tight jeans. “Hey, you like peaches?”

 

She startles at the question, turning her eyes back to the other woman, she sees Emma looking over her shoulder at her. “Not really, they’re much too sweet on their own.”

The blonde throws her a thumbs up in response and she can’t help her eyes from rolling at the gesture. Emma picks the peaches can off the wall and tosses it up, letting it land on the back of her wrist and rolling it up her arm and down the other one. Regina snorts before she can hold it in and Emma grins as if she won a medal.

 

“Eat your food, you child.” Regina receives a cheeky grin before the other woman sits down beside her, practically sticking her face into the can.

 

They don’t talk; there isn’t much to talk about aside from maybe, “Hey, did you hear about that apocalypse?” But she feels comfortable in the silence and it’s something she is pleasantly surprised about.

She’s normally wary and suspicious right from the beginning because other people usually want something from her. Everything anybody around her ever talked about were business deals or stock or some political movement that could make or break a company, and it was a tiring game that she definitely does not miss from her old life.

 

She likes the easy feeling between the two of them. There’s still some wariness—a lack of trust she has yet to earn and vice-versa—but aside from that first slight at the beginning, she’s been shockingly fine when they do speak. She’s not accustomed to feeling comfortable around others, but she thinks she won’t mind if Emma remains around her.

 

“I only have one backpack, by the way,” is how she suddenly starts the conversation, “so we’ll have to find something for you to carry supplies in.”

 

She sees Emma nod in the corner of her eye. “Sounds good. We should hurry though, I don’t think it rained when we were sleeping.” Regina makes it a habit to not to hold any expectations of anyone—because she finds she will just be disappointed otherwise—but she does get consistently surprised at how observant the blonde is.

 

Finishing off the last of the grapes and pears at the bottom of the steel can, she gets up and layers up on clothes as much as she can. She looks over and with more care she’s willing to admit, she softly suggests, “I have a thicker jacket you could borrow.”

 

Emma smiles; it looks genuine and carefree and it makes Regina feel like a good person. “That’d be great, thanks.”

 

Regina walks over to a rectangular cupboard-like door in the wall and pulls the knob. It reveals a low-hanging pole with jackets on hangers. It was what she could salvage and keep from the closet at the house, but the variety of clothing is a far cry from the walk-in closet _mall_ she used to have. She lifts a thick, dark jacket that doesn’t actually fit her very well but might fit Emma, and hands it to the woman.

 

The blonde tilts her head as she grabs the jacket and observes it. Seemingly satisfied, Emma swiftly throws it on and zips it up. “How do I look?” the blonde cheekily grins at her. Regina is loathe to admit that the jacket looks much better on the woman than it does her. So she huffs and doesn’t answer the question.

 

“It’s not like there’s anyone out there to impress.”

 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Emma shoots back immediately, and Regina isn’t sure what to make of that statement.

 

“We should go.”

 

She rushes to twist and push open the hatch, feeling the urge to escape from the conversation, and she lifts herself up. The air feels clear and any other time she would say it won’t rain, but she’s been unable to catch any sign or indication of when it’ll actually rain. It’s like it doesn’t work in the same realm as nature and has its own set of rules. After months she still doesn’t have a full grasp on them.

She hears Emma grunting as she gets out of the hatch and she turns around to close it. She leads the way for their new scouting route. It’s quite a distance, and she’s reluctant to go too far, but everything else nearby was either picked clean or destroyed by the rain.

 

After a long trek, they get to what appears to have once been a nice neighbourhood. Emma immediately decides she wants to climb on top of what looks like the melted remains of a fountain for no particular reason— _idiots and high places_ , Regina presumes. When Emma gets on top of the small hill of debris she stands there with her hands on her hips, posing like one of those egocentric statues and Regina shakes her head. The blonde scans the area, and Regina looks around herself, seeing nothing but past chaos and lost lives.

 

It must have been a quiet neighbourhood, she gathers, with children playing on the streets with basketballs or bikes and parents mowing the lawn or greeting each other with friendly hellos. But all the houses are leveled and toppled over like a child’s forgotten toy now and it’s disheartening to know that the society and life she once knew is completely gone.

 

 “See anything interesting up there?” she mocks.

 

Emma shrugs. “Kinda far from your shelter.”

 

Regina sighs, because this is not news to her. “Food is getting harder and harder to find.” She points to the toppled over suburban houses. “The best we can do is search everything and see if there are any food we can salvage.”

 

Emma stays silent while she clambers off her mini hill and they both walk to one of the caved-in houses. “You know,” and Regina glances over and finds the blonde frowning in thought, “I heard there was something called a ‘Haven’ up north.”

 

Regina’s dubious at the information. “ _How in the world_ have you managed to gather _information_ in this situation?”

 

The blonde laughs, “Some traveling guy came through and told us about it. No idea if he’s still alive or not. A little creepy, a bit scruffy, super pervy, had a prosthetic hand, heard of him?”

 

“No, Miss Swan, I kept mainly to myself, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

 

“Hey,” Emma nudges her teasingly, “I thought we agreed not to call me that.”

 

Regina chuckles, low and rumbly, which causes Emma to rub a hand on her own leg anxiously. “I believe I said, ‘I make no promises’.”

 

“You’re unbelievable.” Emma mutters, too distracted to make any sort of snappy comeback. They step up to the house and the tall blonde pushes against the wooden door, which doesn’t budge. She looks over to Regina, who just raises an eyebrow, and Emma sighs before stepping back and kicking the door as hard as she can.

 

They both stand there, ears perked, listening for any subtle noises that might indicate if anything is nearby. When there’s nothing, they both breathe out a sigh of relief and proceed inside.

 

The first thing she thinks of is that it would have been a nice suburban home if the inside hadn’t melted away. Regina looks up; there’s light streaming from the holes in the ceiling and she can see the indoor balcony of the second floor from the foyer. The stairs, however, are pretty much useless and she can’t see a viable way to get up to the second floor.

 

“Regina!” Her attention moves to Emma’s voice ringing from the kitchen and she follows it to see the blonde standing perilously on top of the kitchen counters. Emma opens one of the cupboard doors—narrowly missing her head—and looks over to Regina, grinning proudly at her find. There’s an assortment of cookies and cereal, things that Regina herself barely got to taste in a life before the apocalypse, but now with Emma’s proclivity for indulgent foods, she thinks it’s going to be even harder for her self control.

 

“Good job, dear, now try not to hurt yourself.” She doesn’t know when she started to treat Emma like an overgrown child, but it seems to fit and Emma seems to understand that she doesn’t particularly mean it insultingly or condescendingly. If anything, it’s Regina’s way of showing that she cares.

 

The blonde uses an arm to scoop out as many boxes of cookies and cereal as she can carry while Regina walks over to the pantry; it doesn’t look very promising.

It has a stylistic wooden door with slits in the middle to ventilate, but that just made it easier for the Flood to get in. Opening the pantry door, she finds that her assumptions are correct; the majority of the food items in there are either rotting or destroyed from the Flood. There are some cans that luckily appear to still be intact at the top of the shelves, but all the labels are gone, more than likely eaten away from the destructive water. She decides to take them anyway; she supposes they will know what’s inside there when they open them up.

 

She moves what she plans to take to one of the counters and looks up. Emma is head deep in one of the upper cabinets continuing her search for more food and Regina can’t help the slight smile at the sight. She shakes her head in dismay at her own reaction to the blonde and announces that she’s going to find a way upstairs. She hears a muffled “Okay!” back and she doesn’t even try to hide the chuckle that erupts from her throat this time.

 

She explores the other rooms; some were caved in, the others were hollowed out. She can tell which parts of the house were weakly built due to the way the walls crumble at her hands as she rubs the residue between her fingers.

 

It’s not safe here. And it is more than likely the same story for all the other houses in this cul-de-sac, so the opportunity for a new base is out of the question. She sighs. Heading out to such a long distance every time they need to find food is cumbersome, and it’ll only proceed to get worse from here.

 

After fully exploring the place, she goes back into the kitchen, nearly colliding with Emma on her way in.

 

“Hey!” the blonde breathes out. She’s carrying a full bag and Regina can only assume that Emma had stuffed as much as she could in there. “All done? Ready to move on?”

 

“Do we even still have room in there?” Regina gestures to the backpack.

 

“Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to look and we can replace a few boxes if we find something better. Plus, have you see these houses? There’s gotta be a hiking bag or school bag somewhere.”

 

Regina agrees that those items are more than likely to be found somewhere if they keep searching. This was a rich neighbourhood, and rich people had life-threatening hobbies like skydiving or mountain climbing. These all probably housed families as well, which meant a child, and children need school bags. They just need to find a place where the second floor is accessible because as likely as those things are, they are much more likely in bedrooms than studies or kitchens.

 

So they go through the houses, one by one, kicking the doors down—sometimes having to break a window instead—and listening for other noises right after. It’s nerve-wracking and awfully silent, but they remain vigilant each time. They swap foods around a few times until they have a wide assortment of snacks, nuts, granola bars and canned foods and she thinks it’ll be sufficient for at least a few more days.

They spend a long time analyzing each staircase, looking for a way up, but find it pretty much impossible each time. Eventually, they find a house that has a somewhat climbable second floor and Emma volunteers to go up.

 

“I appreciate your willingness to volunteer, Miss Swan, but you’ve been doing a lot of the heavy grunt work this entire time and I would like to pull my weight for once.” She hates being at the sidelines or be seen as some sort of damsel in distress.

She doesn’t believe Emma thinks that of her, but it’s more of a heavy criticism to herself. She doesn’t like the idea of appearing weak or helpless, feelings she never wants to feel again, and her workaholic nature refutes the idea of sitting and waiting.

 

So she leaves Emma downstairs with the overflowing bag of food and starts to climb on to some remnant of the bottom staircase. The middle part of the spiraling staircase had collapsed; the foundation of it was probably cheap cement, but there must have been some steel poles in the upper area because there are still some stairs just out of reach, suspended in midair by the second floor.

 

She climbs as much as she can in order to gain enough leverage but she still needs to jump and lift herself up if she wants to get on those stairs. Thankfully, this is something she’s used to.

 

She looks behind her and sees Emma shifting uncomfortably, worry and anxiety marring her pale face, and Regina tries to give a reassuring smile. She gets a wry smile back but it does little to reduce the worry coming off the blonde in waves. Regina decides the faster she gets this over with, the faster they can head back to the shelter and have a good meal.

 

She swings her arms a bit to gain some momentum before she finally takes a leap and barely clings onto the carpeted step. There is very little to grab and she clings onto and pulls at the little strands of carpet, digging her nails into the ground. She tries to pull herself up and can almost hear her arms protesting from the heavy strain.

 

It’s hard doing a pull up with such a big height disadvantage and her arms give up a couple of times, causing her to fall back when she manages to pull herself up halfway.

 

She sees a moving flash of golden yellow and looks down to see Emma pacing off to the side. Right below her are the remnants of the staircase so there’s nothing but jutting pieces of stone and wood to cushion her fall if she were to fall.

 

She gulps.

 

So looking down was probably not the smartest thing to do in hindsight. She’s pretty far from the floor and she can feel her body flying into an overwhelming sense of fear at the sight and thought of what gruesome death she would encounter. Her hands are getting clammy and her fingers are losing their friction.

 

“Don’t look down!” _Too late,_ she wryly thinks. “C’mon, Regina, you got this, you’re stubborn, you’re powerful, you can do this easily in your sleep!”

 

She briefly wonders how and when the blonde got so comfortable at casually calling her name like that, then her mind clears, focusing purely at the task at hand. She’s able to calm down significantly from the mild panic she didn’t even realize she was having once she stopped thinking about her own death.

 

“I question this sudden confidence you have in me, Miss Swan.” The fact that she appreciates it is silently implied and she feels herself gaining confidence from Emma’s belief in her.

 

She begins to take deep breaths, pulling herself up inch by inch with each controlled breath, her arms burning and straining. Before she knew it, she can finally see over the step. With a final pained groan, she swings a leg over and promptly grabs the railing.

 

She hears cheering from below, looking over she sees Emma and laughs gleefully. Their eyes meet and she can feel the happiness, can _see_ the relief flooding Emma’s blue-green eyes. It’s these types of small victories she realizes she’s always wanted to share with someone. She’s been in this world alone for so long that she forgot how to laugh, how to smile. But she can feel those emotions coming back to her now.

 

 _Back to business_ , she tells herself, and she climbs the final steps of the staircase. “I’ll be right back,” she yells down, and she doesn’t wait for Emma’s affirmation. She’s already walking towards the rooms before she hears the blonde yell a “be careful” back in reply.

 

There’s a master bedroom, a child’s room, and an office. She goes to the master bedroom first, hoping for an eccentric hiker family; unfortunately, all she finds is a regular couple with a kink for ropes and handcuffs. She takes the rope, just in case, not thinking too hard about where exactly this rope has been or what it’s seen.

 

Next, she tries to get into the study, but realizes too late that this part of the house had fallen in. When she opened the door, she nearly makes the mistake of taking the first step in, almost tumbling to her death. She jumps back and clings to the swinging door, it creaks from her weight and she quickly reaches for the doorway arch to pull herself back onto ground.

 

She was expecting a room; there’s a gaping hole at her feet instead.

 

The room is completely gone, collapsed from bad foundation and crumbly walls, and she can see pieces of furniture broken on the ground below. This is the section of the house that she couldn’t get to and she is not about to jump down to explore.

 

Last is the child’s room; Regina doesn’t feel all that comfortable about rummaging through some little girl’s room. There’s pink everywhere with a princess bed sitting in the middle. The canopy is flowy and white and sheer and she finds her hand reaching forward and grasping the material. It’s soft and she begins to think about what this family could’ve been like. Did the parents spoil their child rotten? Or was she a smart little girl that didn’t take things for granted?

 

And then she thinks, there used to be _people_ who lived here, _a family_. But now it’s this sad excuse for a house with two women stealing from a dead family. No matter how many times she did it, she feels some of the guilt for taking what wasn’t hers, for living when others couldn’t. She wonders what made her special enough to be one of the few to live. Then she scoffs, because she isn’t special, she was just lucky. She won the battle with life but will eventually lose the war.

 

Then she remembers that Emma is waiting downstairs.

 

Someone depends on her now. She doesn’t feel the crippling pain of loneliness nearly as acutely as she did before now that there’s someone out there who’s counting on her to find the things they need. So she shakes her head, clearing the pessimistic thoughts, and opens the closet.

 

There, sitting in the corner, is a baby blue bag with 2 animated character faces on it. She doesn’t know who they are but she sees the word Disney™ on it and assumes it’s from some movie. It is small, but it’s better than nothing, and she refuses to leave this place empty handed after the amount of effort she put into getting here.

 

She leaves the room with the bag in hand and goes back to the staircase. “Welcome back,” Emma greets her, and Regina tells her to catch while tossing the bag down. She watches her catch the bag and then stare at it incredulously. “Frozen, _really_?”

 

“Better than nothing.” She starts to tie the rope she found earlier to the railing, going as far down as she can on the steps and throws the rope around one of the railing poles. She doesn’t know any intricate knots so she just did a standard bunny knot. It was something she was taught in elementary by another little girl that happened to be the only one in class who knew how to tie her shoelaces.

It stuck with Regina and it was the only time anyone taught her how to tie anything so it’s what she has to work with.

 

The ground shifts under her as she’s tying the knot however.

 

The step beneath her crumbles and falls just as she tightens the rope, and she falls down with it. She claws at the carpet and holds onto the rope with her dear life, thankful for the foresight.

 

“Regina!” Emma screams out in terror, and when she looks down, she sees the blonde practically running around like a headless chicken.

 

Her grip on the carpet is lost when those steps crumble as well and she finds herself falling, a ball of pain and anxiety at the pit of her stomach until the rope she’s holding on to goes taut.

 

The rope isn’t long enough though, so falling will still hurt. Her body spins as her hands tighten around the rope with her arms outstretched up above her. She sees Emma go up the stairs as far as she can and the blonde reaches out.

 

“Regina, give me your hand!”

 

She listens to the desperate plea and tries to maneuver her left hand off the rope. She slips down on it a bit and she hisses from the burn on her palm. She strains towards Emma and she sees Emma doing the same for her. Their fingers just barely brush together before she starts to spin again.

 

She slips down an inch.

 

“I don’t think I can hold on!”

 

“No, _dammit_ , c’mon, we’re almost there, Regina!”

 

When she’s facing Emma again she strains her arm, the burn from before increasing tenfold as she reaches out to her limit. Sweat rolls down her forehead and trickles down her face as her eyes widen, giving the blonde’s hand an unblinking stare.

 

Their fingers touch once, twice.

 

She slips an inch down once more, but this time, she’s out of rope.

 

And she falls.

 

She feels the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, nausea suspended in her throat. Her life flashes before her eyes in a way that none of the books described properly enough. She sees herself almost fall in third person, it’s a slow descent with her mind firing rapidly. She thinks about her childhood, she thinks about her mother, she thinks about adulthood and how much of her life she had wasted.

 

She hears the shrill cry of her name from Emma before the world goes dark.

 


	5. Infection

Her eyes feel heavy so she doesn’t open them, but she can feel her consciousness slowly flowing back and the first thing she notices is the intense throbbing in the back of her head.

 

Then her leg.

 

Her leg feels like it’s on fire, originating mainly from her ankle, and a searing pain shoots up each time she moves. And she _is_ being moved.

 

She can feel that someone is dragging her, can hear the grunts and the cursing, can hear and feel each heavy thudding footstep. There’s a strong arm wrapped around her waist and she seeks comfort in it; it is also the one thing that’s keeping her up, that’s keeping her moving.

 

She begins to stir, finally able to have conscious control over her limbs. “Hey, you’re awake” is what greets her when her eyes open. God, her head is pounding and she’s sore all over.

 

“What happened?” Her throat is dry too, which is apparent when she starts to cough.

 

“Here.” She’s set down against a wall and Emma digs into her pack for a bottle of water. The other woman kneels down in front of her and passes the bottle. She greedily drinks it, completely forgetting all the restraint she normally had when it came to water. She’s parched and she can hear herself gulping down mouthfuls.

 

“Easy, you’ll choke.” She does almost choke, and decides that was a sign to stop so she passes back the bottle. “You fell down on all the debris, got caught in between the unbalanced floor, twisted your ankle and hit your head. How are you feeling?”

 

“Like everything you just described. My ankle burns and my head hurts, and my body also feels sore.”

 

Emma frowns. “Well, if you have a concussion, I’ll just have to think up ways to keep you awake.” The blonde waggles her eyebrows and she smacks her lightly.

 

“Stop,” she chokes out. “We should hurry back.”

 

“Can you stand?” Emma asks. Regina nods, and then after willing herself to stand up, she gives up and shakes her head; Emma doesn’t laugh at her and instead just lifts her up. She’s half slung across the blonde’s shoulder as they steadily walk back to her shelter.

 

She sighs, “I must be heavy.”

 

Emma laughs. “What are you talking about?” She hears the other woman give an exaggerated grunt. “You’re as light as a feather.” She grunts out more and Regina realizes she’s joking and smacks her lightly against her collarbone.

 

“You’re terrible.” But Emma’s teasing lifts her mood from the despondency over the situation. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She feels more than sees the grin that stretches across the blonde’s face.

 

They shuffle along a bit in silence, both focusing on moving one foot in front of the other and taking care not to trip from their tangle of legs. Regina looks around, trusting Emma to keep them from falling. They should be almost home by now, maybe halfway there. But just as she thinks that, a droplet of water falls on her cheek and she hisses as it burns through her skin.

 

“Shit,” Emma mutters under her breath and Regina seconds that statement as they both unanimously begin to move faster. Rainfall steadily increases and they try to increase their speed to match it, the urgency rising as the situation gets more dire.

 

She feels them go slower as the weight and pressure from the heavy rainfall begin to push them down.

 

“Emma.” She tries to grab the blonde’s attention but Emma’s too focused on moving forward. “Emma, you have to leave me!” That grabs her attention and she glances quickly at Regina before turning ahead and continuing onwards again.

 

“No way in hell, Regina, you saved me. You didn’t have to. You could have just left me there to be caught again, but you didn’t. I am not leaving you here, so shut up and keep moving!” The usually nonchalant tone the other woman takes is nonexistent and the finality of her voice convinces Regina that there’s no point in arguing.

 

Everything itches, everything burns and she blinks the water from her eyes hoping it never falls in or she would go blind. This world has become survival of the fittest and being blind in such a world would only make things 10 times harder.

 

“There!” Emma screams out and Regina can make out the marker she put up. They both rush towards it, Regina powering through the pain from her leg each time her foot lands on the floor. When they reach the stone steps, they both slide backwards and fall flat on their faces. They just need to get under cover and Regina begins to crawl up the steps.

 

Her hands sting and they’re red and raw from the rain. The pressure from the rain keeps pushing her back down, but she grit her teeth and clambers her way up. Her ankle isn’t helping matters but she feels Emma pushing her from behind which is enough for her to climb up and over the steps.

She rolls onto her back on the floor where there’s cover but Emma is still there on the steps so she quickly gets on her stomach and reaches out to pull Emma up. They’re both weak from the pain but together, Emma is able to get under the cover as well.

 

They lay there, breathing heavily as the rain falls heavily around them. Their outer layer clothing had quickly dissolved and splotches of red are all over their skin from the exposure.

 

This is probably the closest to death Regina has ever been since the Flood and she considers the fact that it was because they had to travel so far. Emma slowly stands up, pulling her up along the way as they move to the hatch. They can breathe easier once they are inside but Emma continues to pull Regina over to the bed. They both strip whatever was touched by the rain—which is almost everything but they try to keep their modesty—and Emma laments over the black jacket.

 

Emma reaches behind her and feels along the back of her head. “How are you feeling?” Regina’s not quite used to being so close to someone, but she refuses to flinch back.

 

“Like I just narrowly dodged death,” she replies wryly, and Emma chuckles.

 

“That’s fair.” The blonde gets up and looks around. “Do you have a first aid kit anywhere?”

 

“I thought you snooped yesterday?” Another wry answer, but this one is more teasing and she points left to a cabinet.

 

“I only had time to snoop through all your lingerie,” Emma replies equally as teasingly as she comes back with the med kit and Regina blushes even though she knows she no longer has such things. The blonde kneels in front of her and pulls off her boot carefully. She hisses as the boot scrapes against her angry purple bruise and Emma clicks her tongue in sympathy. “I don’t think you should walk for awhile.” Which means Emma will have to do all the supply runs by herself.

 

“I think we should consider what you said about the Haven.”

 

“Yeah?” Regina nods as Emma stands up and gently pushes her to lie down on the bed. It’s all strangely intimate and wholly unfamiliar. Emma bunches up the blankets and sets them under her foot to keep it elevated. She leaves Regina for a moment and walks over to the fridge. There’s a bottle that’s kept frozen in there and she digs it out, bringing it back to put against Regina’s ankle. “Man, I love your fridge!!”

 

She takes the bottle from Emma’s hands and keeps it against her foot. It stings and the bottle is shockingly cold, but she fights the urge to keep the iced bottle away from her leg. “It’s a solar powered fridge. Some low power consumption, eco friendly, $1300 fridge. At least it was worth it.”

 

Emma nods and starts to tape up her foot and she feels warm from the attention. “How do you even know how to care for a sprain?” Regina asks, curious from all the different facets and skills she’s witnessed from the blonde.

 

After making sure Regina’s foot is comfortably elevated, Emma settles comfortably on the bed beside it, facing Regina on the opposite side of the small bed. “Chasing people around raises chances of injuries. I’ve gotten a lot of sprains myself and a lot of Doctor Googling various injuries.”

 

She can’t help but snort. “I heard Dr. Google wasn’t very reliable.”

 

The blonde shrugs. “It is as long as you don’t search for things that are potentially life threatening. Like ‘Doctor Google, why can’t I breathe?’” she mock asks in a high pitched voice, then lowers it into the deepest voice she can.

“’Well, random person searching on the internet, maybe your lungs stopped working, you’re probably going to die.’”

She reverts back to a high pitched voice. “’Oh my god!’”

 

Regina laughs so hard, she’s holding onto her ribs because she can’t hold in any oxygen that it hurts to breathe. Emma’s giving her a winning smile, like every other time she manages to elicit a happy emotion in Regina; it’s one part proud and eight parts like she won an award, and Regina finds herself almost breathless for a very different reason each time she sees it.

 

Emma’s holding onto her sprained foot by her calf as she laughs so she doesn’t accidentally jostle it and it’s so surprisingly mindful that Regina can’t help but put her hand over Emma’s.

But before she can say how much she appreciates the care, her head decides now would be a great time to remind her that she’s in pain.

 

She winces at the intense throbbing and feels herself almost topple backwards.

 

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

 

“No,” she croaks out, because shaking her head didn’t seem desirable and she doesn’t feel like hiding the caliber of her headache.

 

Emma shuffles over to her side of the bed and begins to slowly lower her on the pillow before she stops, “Oh wait, I don’t know anything about concussions, are you allowed to sleep?”

 

“Yes,” Regina says urgently as she grips the arm that’s holding her head up. “The no sleeping thing is a myth.” Emma nods and carefully makes her lay down on the bed.

 

“I’m curious as to how you know that.” And she feels herself pale at the question veiled as a statement.

 

“I— I can’t answer that.” To her relief, the blonde must see her haunted look and she just nods in understanding. They have a tentative friendship, one that she hopes will one day strengthen and keep because Emma has been the first person to show worry and care in a very long time. She doesn’t want to lose that. And she especially doesn’t want to unravel all her past traumatic events to someone when she still barely knows them.

It’s really not proper social etiquette.

 

Regina did not realize just how exhausted she was until her head hit the bed, but her brain is still working its way through everything that happened today. She’s sleepy and her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, but she needs to ask Emma a question that’s been bothering her since they’ve met. “How come,” she slurs, “how come you’re so cheerful?”

 

“Cheerful?” Emma parrots back, sounding mildly offended.

 

“Okay, maybe not cheerful, but almost nonchalant, as if you’re not dragged down by all the death and pain of survival. You make jokes, you grin like a child, you made yourself home here rather quickly and you’re not nearly as paranoid over everything.”

 

Her eyes almost drift closed but she can still see the sad smile Emma has on her face. “Guess I’m a better actor than I thought.” She watches as Emma absentmindedly gets up and grabs a bed cover to tuck her in. “I act cheerful because I’m trying to convince myself I am, otherwise I think I’d go insane.” Emma chuckles self-deprecatingly. “I don’t know how you managed to survive all these months on your own and not drown at the sound of your own thoughts. I don’t like feeling alone.”

 

“I was,” her eyes are closed now and her mouth barely cooperates with movement, “lonely.”

 

The other woman chuckles in amusement this time, “Rest, Regina.”

 

A pause follows and she can feel her subconscious float away. “Regina?” Regina hums, “I’m really sorry about that rich comment.”

 

“I forgive you,” she croaks out before she falls into a deep, deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

Burning.

 

She’s burning.

 

Her skin feels like she is on fire and the throbbing in her head has evolved into a new sort of dull, incessant pain. It feels vaguely like torture.

 

“Regina, Regina!”

 

She feels someone shaking her awake but her coughing is what gets her up. “Emma…” Her throat is sore and she’s sweating profusely.

 

“Shit, I figured out from yesterday, but if you’re calling me by my name something’s wrong.” Emma’s hovering over her, panicking and trying to decide what she can do. Her hands come up and for a moment, she hesitates. Then with a “sorry” she begins to run her hands across Regina’s body, lightly searching for anything that might be wrong with her. Regina winces when a touch grazes her side and Emma lifts her shirt up slightly, gasping at what she sees. “ _Shit, shit_ , you’re hurt, _shit_ , it’s yellow, _does that mean it’s infected?_ ”

 

“Stop,” she coughs, “stop swearing.”

 

The blonde has the time to look sheepish. “Sorry, but I don’t know what to do, please tell me you know what to do!” Regina coughs again and Emma quickly brings a bottle of water to her lips.

 

“Clean the wound,” she says slowly and gestures in the general direction of where she last saw the medical kit, “use antibiotics, keep it dry, keep clean, rest.” Her words were getting shorter and she’s having difficulty breathing. It’s comforting in a way—as she watches Emma run around like a person on fire—to have someone fussing over her while she’s on her deathbed.

 

“You’re not _dying,_ you delirious woman, I barely know you but I _know_ you’re _stubborn_ enough to push through this.” Regina didn’t realize she said all that out loud.

 

“I want to rest.” Emma stops her movement and looks at her.

 

“Yeah, okay, rest, I’ll be here, let me take care of you.”

 

“Okay.” And she blacks out more than she falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

Waking up, she finds Emma milling around trying to find things to do. The relief she sees from blue-green eyes is palpable. Her wound is infected and it will take a few days rest for her to fully heal up.

 

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Emma half sobs out and Regina reaches out a hand to comfort her.

 

Emma doesn’t want to leave Regina alone and incapable of fighting back if something were to happen, so she runs off for supplies whenever Regina is awake. At first she thinks it’s an odd precaution to have, but she starts to read between the lines and is able to piece together a theory. Maybe Emma was happily asleep before her ex-bunker mates decided to drag her awake and kill her. The thought makes her shudder and she does like the idea of sleeping in shifts, but it does leaves her completely, utterly _bored_ whenever Emma is out.

 

Her ankle needs healing as well as the infection, so she can’t walk around needlessly, but the swelling is going down and the throbbing in her head has faded. The bigger problem is the infection, which will take longer before she fully recuperates.

 

Time, however, doesn’t seem to be on their side.

 

Emma comes back with fewer and fewer supplies but she’s out for longer periods of time, and it is dangerous. Every time she hears the sirens while Emma is outside, she fears the blonde will never come back and her blanket is worn on the sides from her nervously picking at it.

 

Emma came back weary and exhausted, so she tries to greet her happily, which seems to cause a smile to stretch across the blonde’s features.

 

“I like coming back home to you.” Emma says offhandedly, and she laughs nervously, suddenly not knowing what to say and why her face felt hot.

 

She brings up the Haven again, mentioning that when she can stand on her own two feet, they should pack up and leave. Emma looks concerned for her health, but the supply runs are taking such a toll on her that she can’t argue even if she wants to.

 

“You sure we can’t pack up the refrigerator?”

 

“If you can haul that thing out of here, be my guest.”

 

A few weeks pass before she’s finally well enough to walk around and not be in too much pain. Her feet are fine now and she deems herself well enough to move and pack. Emma is reluctant about leaving the luxurious fridge, and to be fair, so is she. But there is no way for them to put that anywhere, let alone haul it across who knows how many miles.

 

“Regina, we’re going to have to find ourselves a car,” Emma pants out heavily after coming back from a supply run. She’s shivering and her nose and ears are red at the tips. “It’s way too cold to hike up north in this weather.”

 

“Emma, have you seen any working cars on the streets? Most, if not all, were eaten away from the rain.”

 

“What about your car?”

 

So they find themselves circling the shambles of her mansion.

They’ve been together for awhile now— _together, as in proximity and_ not _a relationship_ —and their movements are unsurprisingly in sync as they unanimously decide to split up and try to find a way into her sealed garage. “If it’s sealed, your car might be still okay,” Emma says excitedly. And Regina doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but the blonde always manages to incite a sliver of hope in her heart.

 

Regina does not like being at the house though. It reminds her too much of a life she wishes she can forget. It says a lot when she prefers her life post-apocalyptic than pre-apocalyptic and she freezes when she sees the blood stain on the remains of her living room floor.

The split lip she got from a ring-filled backhanded slap had bled all over the hardwood and it was just another reason to be yelled at. She had fled to the shelter then, not knowing that it would be right before the Flood and she didn’t know if that made her lucky or unlucky and whether or not she should thank the man for the timing or not.

 

She doesn’t want to thank the man for anything.

 

“Regina? You okay?” She’s snapped out of her thoughts by Emma lightly, gently gripping her forearm. The blonde must have noticed that she tended to flinch from harsh grabs or being gripped from her shoulder so she started to touch her by the forearm. It was lower, it was less intimidating and it became Emma’s spot. She wonders when exactly Emma claimed a _spot_ on her.

 

“I’m fine.” She punctuates with a smile; it’s a lie because her insides still churn, but it’s also a half-truth. Because she knows that at least Emma cares, she at least has someone that cares, and that makes things just a little better. “Did you find a way into the garage?”

 

Emma looks sheepish. “Kinda?”

 

What Emma really found was a hammer— _a hammer and a pry bar actually_ —and a cracked cement wall.

 

“We’re not a demolition team, we could get hurt.”

 

“Okay, let’s play, _how shall we choose our own deaths._ Door Number 1,” the blonde points in a random direction out into the wild, “is _frostbite_ , Door Number 2 is _starvation_ , and Door Number 3 is _possibly_ getting hurt from sledgehammering a cement wall.”

Emma puts a hand on her hip while half supporting herself with the sledgehammer.

“Now, which door will our contestant, Regina Mills, like to open?”

 

Regina sighs. The blonde is right—which she unhappily admits. There’s not much else they can do; all their options seem to lead to certain death, but this is their only real chance.

 

“Fine, how do we do this?”

 

Sledgehammering a wall apparently requires quite a bit of coordination. Their saving point is really the crack in the wall; otherwise this would’ve been a lot of work with no reward. Emma began to throw her body weight into hammering the cracked area with as much precision as she possibly can— _which is not really_ —and Regina follows up by prying out the broken pieces. They get a good rhythm to it and the wall eventually opens up to the point that they can see her car.

 

“Really, Regina? A Mercedes?”

 

“Insult the house all you want, Miss Swan, but don’t you _dare_ insult my car.”

 

With their goal in sight, the hammering and prying doesn’t feel nearly as tedious as before and they manage to open up a hole big enough for them to clamber through.

 

Regina looks around and finds the keys on the workbench and Emma excitedly brings up a hand above her. “Up high, Regina!” She makes a face and contemplates whether she should or not. She doesn’t want to turn Emma’s face from happiness to disappointment, so she jumps and successfully slaps her hand. She’s surprised at the elation she feels from the perfect high five, their hands aligned just right and the smack loud and clear from within the confines of the garage.

 

Emma shouts out an excited whoop from the high five, her mood only going higher.

 

Opening the garage will be their next step, but it’s the easiest one of them all. They both grab a handle on the bottom of the metal door and pull upward until they feel the door budge. Afterwards it’s easy to pull up and push the garage door open the rest of the way.

 

Putting the keys into the ignition and hearing the roar of the car when she turns it gives Regina the best feeling she has had in years. Emma gives out another whoop beside her and she’s glad she has someone to share the feeling with.

 

“C’mon, let’s go grab that fridge!”

 

“No!” she laughs as she start to drive towards her shelter; Emma just laughs along with her.

 

Their bags are already all packed so after driving back to the shelter, they start to move everything into the back seats and trunk. Regina goes back inside to grab the last of the bags, only to find Emma hugging the fridge.

 

“I’ll miss you Eco-whatever-you-were-called.”

 

She can’t help but find the foolish blonde’s antics adorable. “It wasn’t called Eco-anything,” she laughs. “I said it was Eco- _friendly_.”

 

When everything is packed away in the car, she gives one last look at her shelter. It’s kept her safe for such a long time that she views it as home. She thinks back on the first few weeks after the Flood where she cried and floundered, wondering what to do, afraid to even step outside. Now here she is, leaving the only comfort she knows and she’s afraid, but it’s a necessity.

 

Emma walks up to her and just stands there, standing beside her in solidarity. Her presence is comfort enough and she finds that the blonde is giving her the last bit of the strength for leaving. Emma reaches up and touches her forearm again and gives a comforting squeeze before turning around and entering the passenger’s seat. She knows the blonde will wait for when she is actually ready to leave, but she’s stood here long enough and it’s time for them to go.

 

She glances at the stone structure once more before getting into the car and turning the key. Emma fiddles around with the dial but can only find static on the radio so they move on to listening to the CD that was left in the car. Emma goes ahead and opens up all the windows and there’s a breeze.

 

The wind tastes like freedom, like adventure.

 

“Oh sweet, these songs aren’t bad, I thought you’d listen to Mozart or something.” And before she can even make an indignant retort, Emma sticks her head out the window and yells out something incomprehensible; her mood is infectious and Regina finds herself laughing. They turn the volume up and then they start to sing along to Copacabana.

 

“Where are we going?” she screams out over the wind and music.

 

“North!” Emma screams back. “Portland!”

 

So North they go.

 

 


	6. On the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "On the Road" is just a fancy way of saying "Road Trip" guys LOL  
> Not safe for- who am I kidding, this whole fic is probably nsfw but even more so near the end of this chapter lol

 

Cars, they soon find, are loud and create a lot of vibrations.

 

Cars are also faster than any of the rain monsters they’ve seen.

 

It’s Emma’s turn to drive so she pulls to the side and they swap. They’ve just sat down and rolled down the windows when they hear growling. It was a sound Regina sometimes hears in her sleep, so she knows what it is immediately. Emma slams on the pedal before fully closing her car door, but that quick reaction is what saves their car from melting. Regina watches as the monster slithers so fast after them that it’s practically gliding across the road, but the car proves far too fast for it. Eventually the monster stops and they get far enough that it can’t ‘feel’ their car anymore.

 

She begrudgingly admits that the car was a good idea.

 

They drive through the tourist area and Regina thinks about how badly tourism must have been ever since the rain started. Flights and long car rides were dangerous, if it ever started raining in the middle; and Emma told her quite a few companies started to develop a material they could use to make planes and cars so people could travel again.

 

Obviously, that never came about, but it shows just how much damage the rain did even before the Flood.

 

They pass through Saco and start to see a lot more houses that were intact—which is odd—but there’s still nobody around so they go into a few of them to salvage some food and supplies.

 

“Should we stay here?” Emma asks while they’re rummaging around for a better bag than the one they’re carrying right now and Regina considers it. Why _are_ the houses here in better condition? Most of the houses in the more rural areas were single story and they were hit by the Flood, but the Flood only managed to eat away at the furniture— _and the people_ —but only destroyed a bit of the foundation and walls. The majority of the place is still standing and the ceiling doesn’t have nearly as many holes.

 

“We should find a way to get the car inside.”

 

Emma whines at the prospect but she knows that it’s a necessity. Regina goes to circle the house while Emma goes to get the car but she can’t quite find a way for the car to get in. There’s no garage or any way to protect or cover the car but she does find a shed in the backyard.

 

The shed is rusty, probably not from the current rain, but from previous rain—the old rain—and it takes a good kick at the door for it to swing open. It’s a bit useless in here however; she looks up and sees that the rain had completely eaten away the wood roof so everything inside the shed became exposed and dissolved.

 

She manages to find a tarp; it’s bright blue and peeks up from the corner of the shed. When she finally manages to pull it out, she hears a loud crash coming from the house and she quickly runs to see what it was.

 

She’s worried for all of 2 seconds until she sees what the idiot blonde did. “Emma!”

 

“Uhh…” The moron is sitting in the car and the car is sitting in the house, with a large car shaped _hole_ in the wall behind it. “I got it inside?”

 

“You could have brought the entire house down!”

 

“But I didn’t!” If Regina didn’t know any better, she would say Emma felt reprimanded and learned her lesson, but she _does_ know better and knows that the fool is feeling smug at her idea working.

 

“You’re sleeping in the front seat tonight.”

 

“Wha— _No!_ Wait, why are we still going to sleep in the car?”

 

“Because, _Miss Swan_ ,” and Regina walks over and throws the tarp over the car in order to cover it, “the roof to this house is still riddled with holes and if it rains, none of it is going to hold or give us sufficient cover.”

 

Emma got out of the car and stares upward, seeing that Regina is indeed right— _obviously_. “I can’t believe this.” The blonde sighs loudly and shakes her head. “We find a house and we’re still living inside the car.”

 

She can understand why Emma’s so reluctant to sleep in the car. They’ve only been taking turns so far, but it’s cramped and the indents where you clip the seatbelt in poke up at her ribs, making it uncomfortable. But even so, they need to do this for safety and she needs to get used to the idea of Emma and her sleeping in the back together because she’s going to run out of excuses eventually.

 

They search the house for anything they can take and she feels like a rat, taking and hoarding everything in the trunk.

 

“Regina!” she hears Emma yell from one of the rooms and she looks towards the hallway and sees her blonde head sticking out of the doorway. “Want to take the blankets to cushion the back seat area?”

 

She frowns. “That’s really smart actually.”

 

“Jeez, no need to sound so surprised,” Emma laughs from the bedroom and Regina chuckles as well.

 

They pad the back seat area of the car with all the blankets they can find. The blankets are tacky with floral patterns but are made out of old cotton which feels nice and cool to the touch. They try to make it so it extends the seat and they can have more room in the back, but there aren’t enough blankets and Emma falls into the nook when she tries to lie down.

 

But Regina can use it to protect her hip from the seatbelts, which immediately improves the night for her.

 

They eat and it turns dark sooner than they expect; Emma lowers the passenger seat at the front so she can lie down and Regina positions her feet where Emma’s head would be so she won’t be crushed.

 

It’s silent as they lay there for who knows how long, both of them uncomfortable but also too tired to speak. Halfway through the night Regina hears a siren resound in the distance the same time they hear light pattering at the tarp over the car and she holds her breath, hoping the tarp will keep the car safe.

 

When the rain got heavier, she hears the house creak and the rain pelt against the roof high above them. She hopes nothing will collapse on them and that the rain doesn’t get past the roof because the tarp was more of a last resort than anything to really protect them from the rain.

 

“Regina,” Emma whispers at her and she hums in question. “Did you hate your old life?”

 

And she stiffens, sucking in a breath quick enough to choke, feeling her heart thud heavily against her chest.

 

“Nevermind,” Emma quickly amends when she doesn’t answer for a long time. “You can forget the question.”

 

“Yes,” she croaks. She feels as if Emma has been honest with her and it’s only fair for her to be honest back. “I hated my old life.” She wait for the inevitable, _‘but why?’_ because she heard a lot of it when she was younger and thought she could complain to the other rich girls.

 

‘But why?’ they would chitter about in high pitched tones. ‘You have money, a husband, and everything you could possibly want!’ _No, she didn’t_ , she had wanted to scream then, _I don’t have freedom_ , but these women didn’t understand. They were born into that world and it was all they knew about; they wouldn’t even consider leaving their cages even if the door was left wide open.

 

So she expects Emma to be like the other girls where they would berate her for not being more grateful of what she had. She does not expect her actual question: “Is there anything you miss?”

 

She isn’t dismissing her feelings on it, isn’t bringing it to attention, and instead tries to get Regina to focus on any positives in her life. Regina sobs and laughs at the same time, a tear escapes and trails down her cheek. “I miss my father.”

 

“Yeah?” Emma asks quietly. “What was he like?”

 

She smiles as she recalls her daddy’s loving smile, “He was so kind. He would sneak books into my room and we would quietly read together so mother wouldn’t hear. He tried to be there for me, I know that now. He couldn’t do much because he was powerless but he loved me.”

 

She chokes on the last few words and sobs out, “I miss him, and I regret our argument being the last time we talked before he died from a heart attack.”

 

She buries her face in the corner of the blanket she’s lying on and quietly weeps. She hears Emma twisting and turning in her seat until she feels a hand lightly touch her arm.

 

“Hey.” It’s tentative and quiet but she doesn’t hear pity and that’s enough for her to look up and lock eyes with shining green. The small flashlight they found and placed in the middle of the car reflects sharply in Emma’s eyes. Half of Emma’s body is suspended over the middle panel of the car and the other half is still in the passenger's seat as she’s twisted around to reach Regina. “I’m sure he knew how much you loved him.”

 

And they’re such contrasting words from the ones she heard from her mother and other relatives that she can’t help but burst into more tears. She pulls Emma in to cry at her neck, not caring too much of how uncomfortable it must be for her to be in that position.

 

“Regina,” she hears mumbled into her hair and she pulls back to see Emma wince from staying in that uncomfortably twisted position. The blonde starts to get back to her seat but Regina stops her.

 

“Why don’t you…” she trails off and she feels green eyes scrutinize her, trying to figure out what she’s not saying and she decides to just blurt out, “why don’t you sleep next to me?”

 

Emma’s eyes widen and her own eyes widen when she realizes what she just said. “I mean,” she backtracks quickly and points to the cramped nook beside her, “why don’t you sleep here instead?”

 

It’s unreasonable, and probably a lot more uncomfortable, but Regina illogically wants Emma to sleep near her, but not completely beside her, not with her, not yet. Emma looks hesitant and doubtful at what looks like an uncomfortable spot and Regina figures she might as well beg since she’s already made herself more than pathetic.

“Please, it’ll be like when we were at the shelter and you slept on the floor beside me.”

 

“I don’t know.” Emma frowns at the cramped space. “Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

 

Regina sighs because obviously she’s going to have to be a lot more direct. “I just want to be near you, is that okay?”

 

That seems to erase all hesitation as Emma grabs hold of the back of the seats and practically pulls herself out of the front seat, falling ungracefully into the small back seat space. She hears the blonde grunt when the blankets supporting her deflate and she falls to the floor. Regina laughs quietly at first, but then it turns into a full blown belly laugh.

 

“Figures it would take getting myself hurt before you really laugh,” Emma whines from the car floor beside her and Regina rolls until she's hovering over her. She reaches out a hand and cups her by the jaw.

 

“Thank you, Emma.” She leans down and presses a kiss lightly at the tip of her nose and retreats quickly, turning around until her back is facing Emma, a little embarrassed at her actions.

 

“Night, Regina,” she hears muffled behind her and she chokes out laughter.

 

“Good night.”

 

* * *

 

The next few days consist of mainly the same thing. They go into any decently still standing houses and loot all the blankets, food and supplies they can.

 

They also manage to find and pry some glass with enough thickness to withstand the rain and with that, Regina fashions something to protect the car. The design is inspired by the sirens and the glass panels are angled similarly like the siren covers to act as a roof for the car as they drive. With the velocity at which they drive, the wind will also help in wiping the rain off the glass, keeping minimal contact. It’s simple but it works really well.

 

“You have a brilliant mind,” Emma compliments as she stares in amazement at their contraption. She blushes—because she can admit that now, that she _blushes_ around Emma Swan—and mumbles out that she couldn’t have done it by herself. The smile she receives every time she compliments Emma always melts her heart.

 

They’ve grown much closer.

 

“Come up here,” she says one night, because ever since that first night together in the car, Emma’s been taking the backseat nook as her sleeping spot. It’s rough on her back and they’ve been padding it with blankets ever since. It’s admittedly much softer now, but it is still an awkward position to sleep in.

 

Emma’s head pops up, completely in disbelief at the command she just heard with confusion written all over her face.

 

“Come up here,” She repeats, patting the space in front of her. The blonde points to make sure and she nods, smiling.

 

Emma gingerly gets up and settles on the cushioned seats; Regina gestures for her to turn around so her back is facing her and she shifts so Regina can see her muscular back. Regina wants to reach out and trace the shoulder blade but is hesitant to do so.

 

The silence is probably killing the gentle blonde. “You okay back there?” she asks softly and Regina lightly presses her forehead on her back and nods.

 

No more words are exchanged throughout that night but it feels significant for Regina. She’s never allowed anyone else sleep in the same space as her but she’s grown to feel comfortable and safe with Emma there.

 

* * *

 

The next morning she finally finds out what a bail bondsperson actually did.

 

“That sounds like a dangerous line of work.”

 

She’s illogically worried about the blonde’s past, but Emma just shrugs. “It put food on the table.” And they’ve had wildly different lives, but neither of them was better than the other.

 

They drive more up north, dodging rain and avoiding monsters. Whenever it monsoons, they can’t drive out because the pressure from the rain is too much even for the car.

While waiting out the rain, they find a cement garage to stay in. The door is gone so they can still see outside, but they’re safely under the cover of the garage and the car. They don’t have to worry about the rain flooding the ground because it doesn’t gather up as quickly and puddle like normal rain. It seeps and dissolves everything in a straight path, hitting the cement, drilling indents with each surface it touches.

 

“Maybe you should come in,” Regina worriedly tells Emma while the blonde is sitting at the hood of the car watching the rain outside. Emma’s so close to the rain that Regina is afraid a strong wind will just blow it all into her face.

 

“Probably.” Emma replies, but then she points outside. “It’s interesting though, the monsters. I wonder what they are exactly.”

 

Regina sighs, because it’s obvious Emma doesn’t feel like being cooped up in a car all day, and she goes over to sit beside her on the front of the car. She shakes her head. “I don’t know, I can’t think of anything that could move like that other than some sort of slug.”

 

Emma laughs. “Well slugs do pop up when it rains, d’you think those things will shrivel up and die if we sprinkle salt on them?”

 

She feels the ends of her mouth quirk upward. “Would you like to try?”

 

“If it all goes badly, will you save me?” the tall blonde chuckles out and stretches upward, muscles rippling.

 

She smiles at the vulnerability veiled as a joke. “I will.” Emma turns her head to look at her and she tries to convey with her eyes that she ‘ _had her back_ ’—as the blonde would call it—since she suspects Emma has hers.

 

She kicks off from the car to stand and reaches out. “Come here.” she simply says, and Emma grasps onto her hand and follows her. She makes the former bail bondsperson go into the car first and Emma’s confused but complies anyway. She gets in after and the blonde finally understands what’s happening from the way her eyes go wide and staring.

 

“Are you sure?” Emma asks incredulously and Regina nods before landing in a huff with her back facing Emma.

 

She reaches out behind her for a soft pale hand and when she grabs it, she positions it around her waist. “Hold me,” she says softly and she feels Emma slowly wrap her arm tighter around her waist and pull her back slightly so that they’re molded together.

 

“I’m afraid of the dark,” she whispers and she feels the blonde nod behind her. Emma hasn’t questioned once why they put the flashlight up and Regina’s been really grateful about it.

 

“I don’t like to be touched,” she confesses again in an even quieter whisper and she feels the blonde tense behind her.

 

“Is this okay?” She feels Emma trying to pull back but she just pulls the hand on her waist around her tighter.

 

“I trust you.”

 

She feels Emma go through a myriad of emotions, tensing and then relaxing and then tensing again until she finally fully relaxes against Regina’s back. The blonde feels warm, her concern like a healing salve and her arms like safety.

 

“G’night Regina.”

 

“Good night, Emma.” She smiles.

 

Regina wouldn’t mind if this became their life.

 

* * *

 

After that day, they grow touchy with each other. Good mornings now contain pecks on the cheek and hugs are longer, soon becoming a daily thing.

 

“You look beautiful today,” Emma starts saying casually and randomly and it never fails to bring a heavy blush to her cheeks.

 

She’s not that adept at affectionate words but she’ll reply by cupping her hand on the blonde’s jaw and watching as she leans into her hand. She loves the feeling; she can feel the affection and the care seeping out of Emma’s pores and instantly warming her from the inside out.

 

This has been the most anyone has ever paid any attention to her and she is starved for it.

 

So starved that one day when she goes to give Emma a good night peck on the cheek as always, she accidentally kisses her mouth and then Emma—who is so shocked she can’t move away—just stands there, brain short-circuiting on the spot. And instead of _Regina_ moving away, she just deepens it. Because kissing Emma Swan feels like heaven, feels like love and angels, feels like coffee dates and casual banter.

 

Kissing Emma Swan is great because it’s _her choice_ and the way Emma greedily kisses back makes her feel desired, makes the flames of passion flare up from the bottom of her spine. She brings a hand up and tangles it in blonde curls and it makes Emma moan and she instantly takes that chance and dives in with her tongue.

 

She can’t tell if the resulting groan is from her or from Emma but she thinks it might be her but she can’t bring herself to care when she is so lost in the taste of Emma.

 

But then she feels tentative hands on her hips and it feels good but it brings her out of her haze and she draws back. They’re both panting and Emma still has her eyes closed as she looks like she’s savouring the kiss. When her eyes open, she gasps at how dark they seem; it takes everything she has not to go back for another kiss.

 

“Are you okay?” Emma’s voice is hoarse and dusty with lust and the rumble of it shakes her in a place that spreads heat within her.

 

“Yes,” she hisses out and Emma leans in to kiss along her neck.

 

“Great,” she hears murmured into her ear and she definitely groans out this time as she tries to push the woman away.

 

“Emma, we can’t.”

 

She feels the blonde stiffen and back away almost immediately and her eyes soften when she looks into wide-eyed emerald ones. She makes sure to grasp onto Emma’s upper arms so she doesn’t back away too far.

 

“I don’t think I’m ready yet,” she explains before Emma can stammer out an apology.

 

And the blonde just nods fervently. “I—yeah, okay” she breathes out. “We’ll just sleep then, yeah, sleep sounds good.”

 

“Emma,” Regina nearly laughs at the obviously affected but way too chivalrous for her own good blonde and drags her down onto the car seat with her.

 

“I’m the one that initiated the kiss and I want to keep kissing you.”

 

Emma beams. “Yeah?” Regina nods and Emma’s shoulders fall, releasing all her previous tension. “Okay, yeah, I like kissing you too.”

 

She hums and pulls Emma in again to lie down with her; they’re face to face and Regina takes the time to really admire the blonde’s features. She brushes beautiful hair away from a strong jawline and traces the jaw. The woman has such gorgeous eyes, ones that she gets lost in from time to time.

 

“Good night?” Emma whispers with uncertainty.

 

She smiles and pulls her until they’re flush against each other. She feels Emma taking the hint and wrapping an arm around her. “Good night.” She gives one more kiss—because they’re intoxicating—and falls asleep while burying her nose against a long pale neck.

 

* * *

 

But all good things come to an end, and she’s brought back to reality one day while it’s her time to drive. She’s driving normally on the highway when they’re hit with something that causes both their jaws to drop.

 

“Holy shit!”

 

She agrees wholeheartedly.

 

In front of them is a hulking mammoth-shaped rain monster. It’s probably a few miles away but they’re about to enter its shadow. Unfortunately, there are only two ways to go from here: forward or backward. “We’ll have to go the long way around.”

 

“Yeah.” Emma nods when she starts to make a U-turn. “You don’t think that thing can feel vibration like the other guys do, do you?”

 

She watches the beast from her rearview mirror as she drives away; it’s slowly moving in one direction seemingly without a goal. “It’s possible, but it doesn’t look like it can feel us from here.”

 

She makes another wild turn when she hits the exit and that’s when her car decides to inform her it was running out of gas. “Shit,” she mutters; the car gave out a warning noise telling Emma exactly what the problem is so she didn’t have to explain.

 

The blonde sits up and points at a nearby sign. “There!” A gas station is close by so they turn in and stop there.

 

She parks the car and releases the fuel door, then gets out and stares at the gas dispenser. “Emma.” The defeated tone catches the blonde’s attention and Emma goes to stand next to her.

 

“What’s the matter?” Regina points to the blank screen because _of course_ these things use electricity, what in the world were they thinking?

 

“Dammit!” The blonde kicks the dispenser and starts pacing, “How are we going to get gas now?”

 

She looks around for any sort of hint or a sign— _from who? Maybe from the universe, she doesn’t know_ —and sees that there’s a large manhole cover Emma is pacing on. “Wait, do you think you can pry that up?” Emma stops pacing and looks down at where she’s pointing and immediately runs to the car to grab the pry bar.

 

They move together, familiarity helping their coordination as they both push their weight against the tool to bring up the heavy metal cover. When it lifts up a crack, Regina swiftly moves to put her fingers in the gap and lift the cover up the rest of the way. She doesn’t push it far, the metal proving too heavy to drag around, but the hole is revealed and they see pipes and a small portion of what she assumes is a huge tank of gas.

 

Emma starts snapping her fingers in her direction, trying desperately to remember something. “We need a— uh— a pump! A pump to siphon the gas. Or we have to suck it out and I _really_ hope it doesn’t come to that.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

Emma shrugs. “I’ve watched a few zombie shows.” She wants to scoff but this isn’t exactly something you can have _experience_ in and she wasn’t given much time to watch television or movies so how would she know if zombie shows were accurate or not? Her mother always criticized that television romanticized everything and made you lazy and weak but Emma appears to be none of those.

 

“So we should find a hardware store?” She looks around and can’t find any in sight. “And we need to walk to find it, fast.” It’s getting dark and who knows what kind of monsters are out here?

 

“Oh.” Emma looks around as well and sees the low-hanging sun. “Yeah, we should get going.”

 

They walk back to the car and grab a few extra bags from the back. “We should carry some food just in case.” Emma nods and they pack a few canned foods before they go off on their hike. They’re actually almost in Portland; they really just need to cross the bridge and they will be there. Having this roadblock when it’s so close yet so far leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

 

Emma finds a sign and barely makes out the words ‘Mall’ so they begin to head in that direction. They walk closer together now, side by side, hand in hand, an easy companionship. “When you think back on your past, do you consider this a new life?” Emma asks suddenly after a bout of silence.

 

“Do you mean do I consider my life right now a completely different life from before?”

 

“Yeah, like it’s weird but I feel almost disconnected, like everything before the rain was a dream or something.”

 

She thinks about it, she thinks about her family—her father is the only person she really misses in her past—and the memories are faded. “I wonder if it’s because everything we see now is different than what we saw during our everyday lives.”

 

Emma looks over, somewhat confused, so she continues. “Before the Flood, we saw family, we saw friends, we went to work, we came back home. For the majority of us, that was our everyday life. But we don’t have that anymore. No home, no work, and we can no longer see any of our friends and family. Everything we thought we knew is gone and instead we meet new people, we’re traveling to new places, our home is a car and survival is our work. So the reason why we feel this disconnect is probably because nothing we have now is close to what we had before.”

 

She doesn’t look over but she feels the hand in hers tug and she stops moving. She looks back and sees Emma’s striking emerald eyes bore right into her.

 

“You’re right, everything is different now. But I never had that consistent life most people had to being with. I didn’t have friends or family, my work made me meet new people, see new places every day and my home was an empty apartment that contained two cardboard boxes that I never got around to unpacking. And there might be crazy rain monsters that chase me around now, but Regina...” Emma’s hand squeezes hers and she feels the blossoming warmth despite the heavy chill of winter around them.

 

“But Regina, over the past month I feel like I have all the things I was missing. Our home may be a car and survival is our work, but you are my friend and family now.” Emma shoots her a brilliant smile. “And I hope—I hope I’m your friend and family now too.”

 

She pulls the hand that’s in her grasp—their tether—and firmly wrap her arms around the Emma’s waist. “You are,” she mumbles into a jacket and she feels the comforting weight of Emma’s arms around her shoulders. “ _You are,_ ” she repeats and presses a short but sweet kiss against her lips.

 

They continue onwards again with their hands firmly clasped together—their bond even stronger now. _She’s warm_ , Regina briefly thinks, Emma warmed her from the inside out, she’s like the sun and has been supporting Regina in ways that kept her from falling into the dark.

 

She realizes the blonde _is_ her family now. They’ve become this unit and she never wants to change that.

 

When they get to the mall it looks like it’s about to fall forward. They can see where the flood hit: the front of the mall is curved like a tidal wave and a lot of the plaster walls and windows have melted away. Like all the other buildings, it looks like someone cut the building in half like a cake and they’re seeing all the fillings.

 

“I think that’s our shop.” Emma points at one of the rooms that has a vacuum cleaner hanging from the second floor. Regina almost grunts out in annoyance because climbing up to the second floor without any stairs isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. The front door of the mall is blocked— _what else is new_ —so they look around for any other way to enter.

 

They could enter into some of the stores due to the rain dissolving the outer walls but they would need to break the store window to get into the mall so they hold off on it.

 

There is one emergency exit on the opposite side from where the hardware store is located and she hopes the inside of the mall is in better condition than from what she can see from the outside. Emma tells her to stand guard so they’re both rigidly standing by the door while Emma tries to open it without causing too much noise.

 

After a few minutes, Emma stands up and shakes her head. “I can’t, we’re gonna have to bust that window.”

 

She sighs, because of course nothing would be easy for them. “We should remember to pick up some screwdrivers to get rid of these door hinges and knobs.”

 

The blonde smiles and looks at her as if she’s some adorable animal. “I don’t think it works that way for these types of doors. You can only unscrew the hinge when it’s open, which is counterintuitive to what we want.”

 

She can’t help but pout from the patronizingly, patiently sweet voice Emma just used. “Should we head back to grab the sledgehammer then?”

 

“No, if we’re just breaking glass we can use pretty much anything.”

 

When they walk back to the inside of the store, they look around for anything they can use. It was an electronics store and she grabs a few batteries because those things last and they will be able to grab any future tools that need batteries.

 

“You gotta love the irony of life.”

 

She looks over and sees Emma with a bulky but stylish pair of headphones on her head. Emma smiles ruefully at her. “I’ve always wanted these, and now that I have them, I can’t even use them.”

 

“You should take them anyway,” she points out, and they both grin at each other. They grab a few things and stuff them in their bag before deciding that the only thing they can throw is a laptop or a PC at the shop window. It is going to cause a lot of noise and vibration so they brace themselves to run as soon as Emma hurles the PC at the glass.

 

The glass shatters, breaking into tiny shards and spilling all over the floor. The amount of noise it made was deafening and she feels her heart stop. They stand there, ears straining for any sounds of growling or movement but everything is eerily silent.

 

“That’s odd.”

 

“Yeah, do you just think there’s just nothing here?”

 

They don’t trust their luck so they climb past the window carefully, still wary of their surroundings. It’s dark inside, which should’ve been obvious, but she’s so used to the inside of malls being brightly lit with music and people. Instead it’s dark and ominous with too many dark corners and creepy mannequins.

 

“We should remember to grab some jackets,” Emma whispers.

 

“Why are we whispering?” she ends up whispering back.

 

Emma shrugs. “I don’t know but those bastards creep the hell outta me.” She points at one of the mannequins and chokes out a laugh.

 

The silence hurts her ears and each step they make causes her to flinch back, expecting something to leap out at every corner. And there’s rocks and debris that’s fallen from the ceiling that they have to avoid; she’s sick and tired of rocks and debris. But otherwise it’s fairly clean in the mall. It’s been surprisingly untouched, which is odd because she expected there to have been people inside when the Flood came.

 

“Hey, check it out.” Emma points to a paper sign slapped on one of the shop doors. “Looks like there was some generator issues so the mall wasn’t open before this all happened.”

 

“That explains why it’s so empty and untouched here.”

 

Emma shudders, probably at the thought of what the inside of this mall would’ve looked like if people had been trapped here during the Flood. “Do you think that’s why there’s no rain monster things here too?”

 

She sighs because she isn’t sure, but she does wonder if there is a connection. “It’s possible. Who knows why and how those things appear.” She wonders if the rain is some sort of sentient thing where it only attacks congregations of people. She wonders if that was why the houses were mostly still intact in the more rural areas. At this point, anything seems possible.

 

“I don’t think you wanna hear my theory on why those things only appear around people.”

 

She raises her eyebrow. “You think those things _used_ to be people.” She says it as more of a statement than a question and Emma grimaces. “Remember that either way, human or not, those things are trying to kill us.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” There’s a grim set to Emma’s jaw and they both continue upward to the second floor to get what they came here for.

 

Journeying to the hardware store is thankfully uneventful, and stepping foot inside the store made her feel a bit like a child at a candy store. She just wants to grab everything; seeing all the tools lined up on the shelves, she considers all the possibilities that they can use them for. They pick up some gloves, a long tube, some batteries and a drill pump for siphoning out gas and then proceed to go through the entire store picking up what they can fit into their bags.

 

She stares in awe when they find some hiking packs, quickly replacing their own school bags and backpacks. They’re bigger, capable of carrying more things and give better back support. She’s a little sentimental over leaving their old bags because she’s had them for so long, but she’s learned to keep what she needs, not what she wants.

She feels safe here, it’s bright from the missing wall, and she’s surrounded by things in a relatively quiet and untouched building—which is funny, because she was so jumpy before—and she wants to live here. But they are so close though, to Portland, to this _Haven_ , that it would be ridiculous to stop here.

 

“Is that a tool bag?” She points at the black handheld bag in Emma’s grasp.

 

The childish blonde’s eyes shine with excitement. “Yeah, it’s got all sorts of tools in it, I figured it’d be handy.” The woman walks over and nudges her playfully. “Maybe I can go over to that emergency exit and unhinge it huh?” She slaps her lightly on the arm and they both laugh, carefree, and she wonders if this feeling of elation is the same as shopper’s high.

 

‘Shopper’s high’ is that happy feeling you get when you buy new shiny things, except they aren’t really buying, they’re taking freely. But they’re still surrounded by all the new shiny things they _can_ take, and maybe that is the ‘shopper’s high’: the fact that technically this stuff is all theirs now.

 

For once she feels relaxed, and after they’re done pillaging the hardware store— _it’s technically not stealing if no one’s gonna miss it, Regina_ —they both head downstairs to the clothing stores they previously passed. And they use their newly acquired flashlights and pull clothes off hangers to try.

 

Emma laments about thin summer clothing that they can’t wear due to the weather. “We should come back here when it’s summer. You’d look good in this top.” The blonde holds up a fairly revealing, corset-esque top and she sees hazel-green eyes wink at her. The store suddenly feels hot despite the almost freezing temperature outside and she can’t find anything to blame except for the idea that Emma might imagine her in skimpy clothing.

 

There’s been some light touching, but nothing too crazy—Regina isn’t ready for it—but their kisses sometimes grow hot and heavy and she’s gotten aroused once, or twice— _or every time_. She hopes she can be ready one day; Emma’s been so patient with her that she wants to reward it somehow.

 

“I would get it,” she hums out, “but I’m afraid that would undo all the effort it took for you to survive until now.”

 

“Hey,” Emma laughs while she casually peruses more shirts from another rack, “I’ll have you know that that’d be a pretty good way to die.” Regina bundles up a shirt into a ball and throws it at the blonde in jest.

 

Emma finds a few good leather jackets and grabs them excitedly. When they met Emma wore a garishly red leather jacket, to which Regina wanted her to never wear again—and she gave clear reasons _why_ —and Emma never did wear it again. But she said it was her favourite jacket—it was the first thing she bought for herself when she finally got her first paycheck—so they keep it in the back and drape it over themselves when they sleep. So Regina is fine with the blonde grabbing another leather jacket as long as it isn’t an _eye sore of a colour_ and is sensibly non-visible from 10 miles away.

 

With new clothes on their backs, packs filled to the brim with supplies and anything they can get their hands on, they start to head back. It’s getting worryingly dark so they jog back, forgoing conversation and saving their breath.

 

They breathe out in relief when the car is exactly where they left it, completely untouched, and they spill out all the things from their packs into the trunk of the car, sorting out what they need. They attach a tube on a drill pump and fashion out a generator with batteries. Emma grabs a pair of gardening gloves and jumps down where the tank is.

 

Regina tells her to be careful and receives a thumbs up in return. She shakes her head and goes to attach the tube to a big red portable gas can they can use as a spare. It’s gross down where the gas tank is; there’s spiderwebs and dust which Emma bats away with her glove. Emma uses all her strength to twist open the top of the tank and when she does she sticks a tube down and tells Regina to turn on the pump.

 

The drill pump sputters awake and they eventually see it siphoning gas into the red plastic.

 

She’s relieved it works and they wait around for the gas can to fill up. Emma’s holding the pump in her hand because the tube they cut wasn’t long enough to lie on the concrete road. Emma pouts and complains that she’s a little hungry so Regina grabs a bag of Cheetos and hands it out to her.

 

Emma pouts again. “Can you feed me? It’ll be hard to hold the bag and eat at the same time with one hand.”

 

“You’re hopeless, and such a child,” she says, but she’s tearing open the bag anyway and holding out the orange snack between her fingers. Emma leans over and darts out a tongue to take the food into her mouth.

 

“This is great.” Emma cheekily grins as she licks her lips. “I feel like I’m in Rome with a beautiful woman feeding me grapes.”

 

“Except Rome is 4000 miles away and we don’t have grapes,” she dryly counters and Emma laughs.

 

“Oh shit.” Gas spills from the canister, so Emma hurriedly turns off the drill pump. When the gas is cut off and it isn’t spilling everywhere they sigh, “Well, that’s one tank down.”

 

“We should start to fill the car.” She lifts the tubing out of the gas can and goes to stick it down the car’s gas tank instead and signals Emma to start up the pump.

 

They wait around and Emma asks for more snacks so she goes over to continue feeding the needy blonde. She sneaks some for herself as well and she’s feeling indulgent again from the obviously fattening food. Emma smiles at her when she eats which only encourages her to eat more and when she holds out the last piece of the cheesy snack, Emma grabs her hand, turns it over, and kisses the back of her hand, a smirk present on the blonde’s face. She openly gapes and Emma takes the Cheetos out of her hand, eating it with a wink.

 

“Emma!” she screams out and crumples up the bag, throwing the ball at Emma in retaliation.

 

But the blonde just chokes out her laughter, “You should’ve seen your face!” She can’t do anything— _like kill her_ —so she just glares. But Emma just keeps laughing, almost falling over from her imbalance, until she stops, her eyes widening at something behind her.

Being in survival mode for several months has taught her how to immediately catch when there’s danger. Regina quickly spins around to see what Emma is seeing and gasps.

 

There’s a mammoth monster heading their way, the shadow of its head towering over the roof of the gas station. And it’s terribly unfair that something that’s the size of a 4 story building can silently sneak up on them because it doesn’t stomp it’s way through, it glides and snakes its way like a snail, leaving a trail of destruction behind it. She turns toward Emma and reaches out her hand. “Emma, we have to go!”

 

But the stubborn blonde just shakes her head. “No, wait, just, a little bit more.”

 

She sees the hulking shadow completely surround the area around her and she can tell they only have a few minutes left. The monster moves slow for its size, but it still moves at a considerable speed. “Emma.” Regina can hear the worry in her own voice but Emma just continues to shake her head; her hand is visibly shaking however so she knows Emma’s not doing this to appear foolhardy and daring.

 

“Regina, please, just trust me. Go and pack up everything that you can for now.” Regina looks back at her; disbelief must be clearly written all over her face. “ _Please._ ”

 

Regina runs and quickly grabs everything that she can and stuffs it into the trunk. It doesn’t take too long since they didn’t leave out too many things, but by the time she’s done the monster is significantly closer and she can’t wait any longer.

 

“ _Emma!_ ” she practically pleads as she shakes her outstretched hand.

 

Emma looks lost, like she doesn’t know what she should be doing. The panic in her eyes doesn’t seem to have registered in her brain yet. “Yeah, okay.” She turns off the pump and shakily starts ripping out all the tubes but there is _seriously no time_.

 

“You can do that later! Take my hand!”

 

“Fuck!” Emma grabs her hand and starts to pull herself out until she fumbles with the pump and accidentally drops it. Regina feels Emma let go and she calls her an _idiot_ before she can stop herself.

 

“Just leave it!”

 

“No! What if we need more gas?” Emma swoops down and grabs the drill pump, nearly slipping due to the rounded tank she’s standing on. She finally grabs her hand again and Regina pulls as hard as she can. She falls backward while Emma practically flies out of the manhole. The blonde quickly goes to lift her up and they run to the car. The monster is so close it’s chipping away at the gas station roof, cracking it in half as the support dissolves.

 

Regina has the key already in the ignition ready to go so she quickly turns it when she gets into the driver's seat. The key won’t turn though and she panics. It feels like it’s stuck on something.

 

“What are you doing?” Emma panics when she sees that they aren’t moving.

 

“I—I don’t know, the keys won’t turn!” She keeps trying, a little afraid the keys will break in the ignition if she twists any more. Behind them she can hear the roof finally giving way and falling, a loud crash resounding from behind as the monster continues forward. She can see the shadow of the monster up ahead which means it’s looming beyond the roof. The roof of the gas station is the only thing keeping them alive right now and it could be seconds before it all dissolves away and the monster falls upon them, literally.

 

“Shit!” Emma quickly leans over and grabs the wheel. She turns it to straighten it and screams, “Now!” Regina attempts to turn the key again and it turns without resistance this time. Never before has she been so glad to hear the sound of her car flaring up. She stomps on the pedal and the wheels of her car squeals as they quickly turned on the pavement. They speed away just in time to see the whole station collapse.

 

“That was too close.”

 

Emma turns around and faces forward, no longer watching the monster behind them. “You’re telling me. I fucking hate this world, can’t even get gas without risking our lives.”

 

“But we got gas,” Regina adds, her face hardening at the wonder of what they just went through; the meter shows that it’s about 75% full and that is more than enough considering they have a spare gas tank filled up as well.

 

* * *

 

They’re tense for the rest of the day, the near death making them silent and thoughtful.

 

Emma is worryingly quiet and they pick a secluded spot before hunkering down for the night to sleep. She demands with her eyes for Emma to hold her and she immediately complies. She falls into strong arms and it makes her feel alive.

 

They almost died; every day, they could almost die. Life is far too short.

 

“Emma,” she breathes into a collarbone, pressing a few kisses where her mouth can reach.

 

She can feel the woman groan out and the arms around her inadvertently tighten their hold. “I hope that when I die, this is what kills me.”

 

She rears back in surprise and then narrows her eyes in anger. “ _No,_ you are _not_ going to die on me, Emma Swan, I won’t allow it.”

 

The blonde shrugs and Regina is angry. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognizes that Emma is trying to hide her fear through jokes but it’s a joke that hits too close to home and she wants none of that. She grabs the other woman by both sides of her face and makes sure the blonde can see her eyes.

 

She conveys as much as she can with her eyes, willing her thoughts to go through: _you’re not dying, I need you, please don’t leave me_. Then she rushes in and kisses with passion and fire and all the words she’s still too afraid to say.

 

Her hands roam, sliding down a jawline, tangling in blonde hair, and wrapping around a muscled back. She counts the individual pieces of Emma’s spine and taps against each rib with her finger. She’s memorizing, mapping out this wonderful woman with her hands to keep in her memory.

 

She can feel Emma’s hands twitching at her waist, afraid to move any more than she’s allowed and her heart warms and she wonders what she did to deserve such an amazing person. “You can touch me,” she whispers, drowning out her fear of being touched sexually with Emma, _drowning_ herself in the touch and feel of Emma.

 

She feels the first tentative touch at the bottom of her spine and her body involuntarily stiffens. “You okay?” she hears, and she nods and moves her hand to keep Emma’s hands on her.

 

“I’ll tell you if I’m not.” And Emma’s self-control breaks like a dam; hands are now suddenly everywhere all over her body, touching, feeling, caressing. Their kiss deepens; each time they separate they take huge gulps of air and then dive in again, their tongues dancing together with a nonexistent beat.

 

“Emma,” she gasps out when the blonde moves to nip at her neck. She can feel more than hear the groan that erupts from her own throat.

 

“God, Regina, I love your voice.”

 

She feels insistent hands pull at her waist until there isn’t even an inch of space between them anymore. It feels so good to be flush against another person, a person who wants her. She shivers when she feels hands tentatively skim under her pant line, her muscles jumping at the sudden feeling.

 

Emma’s hand snake under her shirt and presses against at her stomach and she suddenly finds herself on her back. Fear irrationally flares from her throat and she pushes against the blonde. “Wait, wait!”

 

The woman above her freezes what she’s doing and sits up immediately.

 

“I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to force you.”

 

She sits up in a hurry as well. “No, _no,_ it’s not you—“

 

“’It’s me’, right”? Emma shoots her a wry smile. And Regina shakes her head and takes both of the Emma’s hands, squeezing them, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

 

“Emma, I’m—” she chokes on her words, “I’m damaged and scarred and I hate that one man can cause me so much fear even now.”

 

She can see emerald eyes narrow and darken in hate for a split second before they grow big with worry. “We can always stop, it’s fine.”

 

“But I don’t want to,” she almost whines out. Stopping now will be equivalent to torture; she’s hot and desperate to be touched and she craves Emma’s touches like a drug.

 

Emma smiles and presses a soft kiss against her forehead. “I love you,” she says simply and Regina gasps because _no no no_ she _can’t_.

 

“Emma—”

 

“And I don’t say that so you have to say it back, but I wanted you to know that you can trust me.”

 

_She does_ , she trusts her more than she’s ever trusted anyone. But it’s too much. “Emma, I don’t want to hurt you, and you— you could potentially ruin me,” she says, because the thought of hurting Emma emotionally would haunt her for the rest of her life and the thought of Emma hurting her emotionally was physically crippling.

 

Emma nods as if she realizes the issue. “You’re not going to hurt me, and I will never hurt you. I will love you regardless and…” She trails off and looks to the side.

 

Regina brings a hand up and strokes her arm. “You can tell me.”

 

“It can be just for one night. I just want to feel that you’re _here_ with me.” And that is something she understands very well; it’s how they started this, how they even got to this point. Their near-death experience looms over her head like a shadow and she would regret it until her last breath if she died tomorrow and she never got to touch Emma.

 

And that is a real possibility. Dying tomorrow.

 

Regina’s hands move up to cup the blonde’s face. “But that’s unfair to you.”

 

Emma just shrugs. “It wouldn’t be new to me.” That statement itself is horrible and she wants to hunt down whoever hurt the blonde in the past.

 

She must look like she’s about to say something because Emma continues in a rush, “Look, just say the word, continue or stop, you decide.” She wants to cry because _how does she choose?_ She wants them to continue, she’s never felt so aroused, so erotic in her life and Emma just brings it out of her. But she doesn’t want either of them to get hurt. The responsible thing would be to stop.

 

“Don’t overthink it.” Emma chides softly and she curses in her mind, throwing caution to the wind and bringing the blonde’s face close to press a searing kiss on pale lips. _Just this once_ , she tells herself, _just this once in case they die tomorrow._

 

She feels the soft swipe of a tongue against her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to allow entrance. Emma’s moan rumbles and vibrates down her throat and she feels hands on her waist, around her back, down her hips, down her thighs, then she feels two hands cupping her ass and she moans loudly as she feels the definitive squeeze.

 

The touches have more of a finality to them now. The thought that this would be the one and only time has her gulping down fear and believing, _trusting_ that the person before her will never do the same things her ex-husband did.

 

Emma lets out an impatient groan and moves to pepper kisses down her throat. Regina tilts her head to give access and her eyes slip closed from the pleasure. “You feel so good,” Emma whispers at her ear and she _can’t_ , it’s so much but not enough and she’s completely unfamiliar with all these feelings welling up inside of her, like her nerves are electric and she wants to move move _move._

 

“ _Emma,_ ” she breathes, so husky that she doesn’t recognize her own voice. She moves her head to bring the blonde into another kiss, which distracts her enough that she doesn’t realize Emma has positioned herself between her legs until she finds herself grinding on Emma’s abs. Her body feels uncontrollable, like she’s possessed by the desire and need to accomplish _something_ , something that will relieve her of this pressure she feels, something that will give her an ending, _a finish_.

 

Regina finds herself wrapping her legs firmly around the thin waist and her hips move on their own accord. “ _Regina,_ ” Emma says simply, and Emma trails kisses down her jaw, her clavicle, between her breasts then on and around her breast, a supple nipple is brought and enveloped by a warm mouth. She didn’t even realize her shirt has been rucked up enough that her breasts are now exposed; her body feels so hot all over that the clothes feel more restrictive than protective.

 

Her back arches and a long moan falls from her mouth. The heat of Emma’s mouth against one of her most sensitive spots brings so much pleasure that it borders on pain.

 

Emma nips and sucks and she feels it down to her lower back, sparking everywhere and directly to the apex of her thighs. She’s so wet, uncomfortably so, and she wants— _wants something_ , something to relieve herself.

 

“Emma!” she practically sobs when she feels a hand shoved down her pants and a thumb on her clit; she isn’t going to last long, she is _so close so close_ and more than ever she wants—“Inside, _please_!” she screams when she feels two fingers plunge into her, tentative at first, but she feels herself stretch and accommodate until she’s wrapped around the two fingers.

 

Emma thrusts into Regina at a quick pace because she’s already on the precipice of having the biggest orgasm she’s ever had—the _only_ orgasm she’s ever had—and it’s not going to take much for her to get there.

 

“You feel so good inside, Regina.” She shudders at the words, a good shudder, one that goes down her entire body like a pleasurable wave. She didn’t expect Emma to sound so sensual or be so into dirty talk. “You’re like heaven, Regina, can you feel me inside of you? Stretching you? _Making you mine?_ ”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” she hisses, she’s _so close_ , and the fingers thrusting into her is _so fast_ that her hips have trouble keeping up. “Yes, I can feel you.” Her mind feels blank and she babbles out whatever words come into her brain, “Make me yours, _oh god_ , make it so I can feel you for _days_.” Because she _wants_ to be Emma’s, wants to erase the touch of anyone else and wants Emma to take all that she can give, even if just in this moment.

 

As soon as she says that she feels a thumb flicking her clit again and Emma’s spare hand come up to toy with a breast. She feels like she’s being touched everywhere, all her nerves alight with pleasure.

She wants to come, _god she wants to come_. “More,” she begs, and screams when she feels three fingers slide inside her.

 

And she’s _almost, almost_ —she clenches down hard on the fingers thrusting inside her. Her vision flashes white, her muscles lock, her back arches to an impossible degree and she feels an almost unbearable amount of heat wash over her before she falls back down on the car seat below her.

 

She’s sweaty and tired but sated and warm, like being on a beach watching the sunset.

 

She turns her head and sees Emma staring at her in awe, her fingers still deep inside of her and she closes her eyes as another aftershock of pleasure goes through her. “ _Emma,_ ” she breathes out, reaching a hand up to cup the blonde’s jaw as Emma carefully extracts her fingers. She feels herself clench around nothing, like she misses having Emma inside, and she groans at the sensation.

 

“I feel like I should thank you,” Emma chuckles out as she leans into Regina’s hand on her jaw.

 

“How so?”

 

Emma lifts her hand up and licks the essence off of them and moans; Regina also moans at the sight of Emma enjoying her taste. She thought it would be disgusting, but it’s somehow oddly even more sensual and intimate. “Thank you.” Emma locks eyes with her and her emerald eyes shine even in the dim light. “Thank you for letting me witness such a beautiful sight and for letting me do this for you.”

 

She chuckles huskily, her throat dry from the screaming and the moaning. “I should be the one to thank _you_.” Because Emma managed to help her swallow down her fear, make her feel something she’s never felt before, and she’s grateful for it.

 

But Emma just shakes her head. “No need, you deserve all the earth shattering orgasms in the world, Regina, please remember that.”

 

Regina grasps Emma behind her neck and pulls her down for a kiss. It’s open mouthed and slightly messy, but it’s slow and passionate and she feels she can kiss Emma Swan for hours.

 

Her hands trail down from Emma’s neck to her shoulders to her breasts and she feels them, cups them and hefts them up. She’s never felt another person’s breasts before even with clothes over them and she quite enjoys how soft they are. The underwire of the bra constricts her movements a little but she can still feel their weight and their softness.

 

“Having fun?” Emma smiles against her lips as she plays with the blonde’s breasts.

 

“Very.” She cheekily grins back but then she bites her lip, a little unsure of what to do from here. “I’ve never done this before,” she confesses and Emma just wraps an arm around her waist and flips them so Regina is on top.

 

“Don’t worry too much about it, just have fun.”

 

Emma, who’s ever so kind and patient, who always gives Regina a choice and free rein, who’s risking herself emotionally to show her how much she cares, and who is beautiful, inside and out and deserves better than what Regina can give. “I want to make you feel good though.”

 

It’s their one and only night. The thought that looms over her like death and she wants this to be good. Emma has already fulfilled her promise; Regina just wants to make sure she does too.

 

“I don’t think it’ll take much” She feels Emma chuckle from her diaphragm. “Listening to you already got me halfway there.”

 

And she shouldn’t feel so flattered, but Emma has this charm that lets her say the crudest things and Regina always seems to swoon over them. She reaches down and lightly picks at the hem of the other woman's shirt and Emma sits up and rips it off herself quickly.

 

Just the sight of her in a bra makes her overwhelmingly aware of how wet she is and how uncomfortable her pants are right now.

 

Emma starts to reach behind herself before Regina stops her. “Let me,” she says, and she wraps her arms around Emma’s back and fiddles with the bra. It is a lot more difficult than taking off her own; she has to somehow remember where to pull to unhook but when she gets it, Emma helps shrug it off.

 

Her breasts are… well, enticing, and it’s not something she’s ever considered of herself, but has she always preferred the fairer sex? When she thinks back, there were occurrences here and there where she would stare at the female form more than was socially acceptable, but she always waved it away as if she was just admiring a dress.

 

“What are you thinking about?” She can hear the nervousness in Emma’s voice and to be fair, she fell quiet at the sight of her breasts and that would lead anyone into self doubt.

 

She sees Emma biting her lip, staring up into her eyes as she tries to figure out what was going through her mind. Regina leans down to press a sweet and reassuring kiss on thin lips, soothing a tongue over a gnarled bottom lip. “I was wondering if I was always…”

 

“Gay? Bi? Yeah, you’re uh, kinda born that way.”

 

It’s such a revelation to her; she’s been sheltered all her life and she knows what her mother and her ex-husband thought of _those_ types of people. They thought it was a depraved lifestyle, completely immoral and that they were all going to hell. But she has surprisingly never believed that; she couldn’t see what was wrong with it.

 

She thinks back to a time during a dinner party where she caught sight of two young girls giggling and pressing kisses against each other’s cheeks, their faces flushed and eyes filled with adoration. Her father found her while she foolishly stood there. Their happiness caused a grin to fall upon her face and her father saw and just gave her a hug. He probably knew then but didn’t do anything but give her silent support, and that might have been all she needed.

 

She’s free now. Free from her mother, free from that man, free to think and do what she wants.

 

She bends her body down until their breasts brush up against each other and it feels soft and arousing. She trails kisses down a strong jawline, a swallowing throat and then one right before the ear, directly under her jaw. That last spot causes Emma to melt instantly. Regina can feel Emma just sink down and relax as the loudest moan she’s heard so far erupts from the beautiful woman beneath her.

 

She grins salaciously. “Here?” she asks, and she nips and sucks at the skin right under Emma’s jaw despite her protests. Emma squirms and moans, the feeling too intense for her.

 

“ _Regina_ ,” Emma breathes out, “I need you to— _please_.”

 

She almost pouts; she _had_ wanted to draw it out for as long as possible, but that would have been cruel to Emma, so she pulls back and shuffles down a little to unbutton tight pants. She drags them down past the butt and then easily pulls them off muscular legs.

 

The pants fly off somewhere along with the shirt and bra but at the moment Regina doesn’t care. She’s staring, she knows she is, but she can’t help it when she has Emma Swan naked—save for the underwear—spread out before her.

 

Maybe being gay did make her a little depraved but she openly welcomes it, welcomes the feeling that the sight of Emma gives her. She feels like she isn’t entirely in control of her body. Her hands stroke and touch long, pale legs without any input from her brain and she finds her fingers sliding under the slick underwear, feeling soft hairs.

 

It’s intoxicating, Emma Swan is intoxicating and the sounds she’s making as she slides a finger up and down the slit she found underneath the hairs bring her into an almost euphoric plane where she sees herself in third person.

 

She moves her body so she’s hovering over Emma and rests a hand on the car seat below. Emma sees her coming up and leans up for their mouths to crash together as she flicks the underside of a hard bud.

 

She understands now what Emma meant when she said hearing her brought her almost to climax, because hearing Emma moan and writhe under her gives her a sort of power and control at being able to affect the blonde so much. And it’s _powerful_ and _strong_ and she feels privileged with this control. Emma’s noises of pleasure make her wet and the smell of sex makes her dizzy.

 

She feels like they’re creating something, creating emotions, creating feelings, creating love.

 

“ _I can’t_ —” Emma mumbles out when she starts to trace a breast with a free hand, “you’re killing me here.” Emma laughs and tilts her head up like she’s given up and is just waiting for her to take her, to finally bring her to the high she’s been rapidly building up to.

 

Her hands trace a stimulated nipple. It’s soft and squishy, and she pinches and pulls, earning herself groans as Emma flails about, trying to give herself friction. She almost laughs at the whine from Emma’s throat when she envelopes a breast into her mouth and sucks.

 

“Oh god.” Emma sounds like she’s praying for the torture to stop so Regina takes pity and prods around for the hole. It’s a little embarrassing when she doesn’t even know the anatomy of something she owns herself, but when she finds it, she’s distracted by the way it feels. It feels strange but warm and wet, and the response she’s getting only encourages her to explore more.

 

Emma’s hips shift and thrust upward as she feels along the ridged insides of a female’s vagina— _Emma’s_ vagina—and she feels oddly exhilarated and curious at the foreign feeling.

 

“I need more, Regina, ple— _ah!_ ” Before Emma could even make the request, Regina has already started to work in a second finger. She can feel each thrust of her fingers causing Emma’s insides to stretch, to open up and invite her in deeper. It’s a cavernous wonderland, the entrance squeezing down on her fingers as Emma clenches from the pleasure.

 

“Was this how you felt when you were inside me?” she asks without expecting an answer. “As if you didn’t know how you managed to survive this long without this feeling?”

 

“ _Wha_ —”

 

“I want you to climax for me, _Emma,_ ” she continues; she doesn't know how to talk dirty like Emma, but she thinks her thoughts themselves are dirty enough to just blurt them instead of trying to say something she isn’t used to. All she can think about is bringing this woman to the same earth-shattering feeling she felt when she had her orgasm. “Can you do that?”

 

Emma can’t speak though, too preoccupied with the feeling of fingers driving in and out, making sure to scrape and thrust at the spongy spot on her upper walls. That spot causes Emma to move her legs, wanting to do something but not knowing how to accomplish it.

“ _Regina,_ ” Emma gasps out, “ _I need to come._ ”

 

She brings her other hand to thumb at Emma’s clit and husks at her ear, “Then _come for me_.”

 

She watches as Emma’s mouth opens wide with a silent scream as her body tenses and arches completely off the seat. She feels her tremble and shake beneath her and her fingers are squeezed to the point where she fears for her blood circulation. She tries to keep up with the thrusts but it’s so tight down there that she’s afraid forcing herself in will hurt Emma.

 

After what felt like minutes, Emma collapses back down on the seat with a sigh, twitching and boneless with her head fallen to the side. She pulls her fingers out slowly, feeling Emma’s body pulling her in to stay.

 

“Was that okay?” she whispers, all her confidence quickly leaving her when the blonde doesn’t open her eyes.

 

“Hell yeah.” Emma chuckles and turns her head to look Regina in the eyes. “That was amazing.” She’s pulled in—without much resistance on her part—for a kiss, Emma’s a little too tired to really move her mouth the way she wants to but she’s just happy to have this connection.

 

Emma opens her arms, still half naked, bare for Regina to see and she falls into her arms, resting her head on a beating heart.

 

“We’re alive.” She traces a finger over the skin of Emma’s heart.

 

She feels hands stroke and thread through her hair and she sighs and melts into the chest more. “We’re alive,” she hears the statement repeated back to her.

 


	7. Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Reference to marital rape
> 
> Also, this chapter used to be 20k long... but everyone I told this news to said to put an A/N telling you guys to take a break like sleep, or eat, or pee, not necessarily in that order, at some point in the middle. So yeah, instead, I just cut the chapter in half, so technically chapter 8 is supposed to be with this chapter haha

They never speak of that night the next day and Emma almost seems to have completely stopped trying to touch her. She misses it; she never realized how much skin to skin contact they had every day and it’s infuriating.

 

Emma probably finds her undesirable now. They slept together and maybe that was just a means to an end for the blonde. It’s confusing because Emma still looks at her like she cherishes her and will bring a hand up at times like she’s going to comfort her with a hug or hold her hand, but then that hand drops and Emma abruptly tries to change the topic.

 

But she still does all the little things that Regina really adores about Emma. The blonde is always making sure to check with her with anything and to make sure she’s comfortable. It’s only at night that Emma lets herself hold Regina from behind. It’s the only security Regina has at night and she’s glad that at least that much hasn’t changed. To say she’s getting mixed signals is a vast understatement.

 

Besides, Regina doesn’t _need_ to survive on the kisses and the touches and she certainly _does not_ need to have sex with Emma again. She’s happy with just her presence and the easy companionship they’ve always had. And she’s glad that part of their interaction hasn’t changed in the slightest.

 

Cut to a few more weeks of traveling, taking breaks when the rain hits, and painfully, _painfully_ platonic touching.

 

They are really close to Portland now. The road signs are all faded and gone, but she had been driven up here enough times due to high scale parties and schmoozing with business partners that she recognizes the landmarks. She and Emma silently agreed on stopping before heading into the city, not knowing what they might find.

 

They find shelter in a sturdily built firehouse and park the car beside a broken fire truck. The big red truck has melted wheels and the front of it was dissolved, presumably during the Flood, but it is still a Fire Truck regardless and that itself raised the excitement of Emma Swan.

 

“Regina, Regina! Look!”

 

Emma apparently found the locker room and grabbed the least smelliest uniform before sliding into it and clambering all over the truck. She is such a child and Regina can’t stand the fact that she finds it so endearing. They have not had sex since that one night and _despite_ all her previous thoughts of not needing to touch the blonde, she’s finding it _very_ difficult to keep her hands to herself when Emma’s sporting a white tank and fireman uniform while posing with a fire hose. It’s so _dorky_ but it also makes her want to rip that uniform off of her.

 

They should have never had sex, she laments. She wouldn’t be in this predicament of knowing Emma’s body but never getting the chance to touch it again if she never had the privilege of getting to run her hands down the blonde’s abs in the first place. So what if she would forever wonder how it felt to be inside her, at least she wouldn’t be daydreaming about the time that she _was_ and then waking up and remembering why she _wasn’t_.

 

They’re both physically fit—running around and climbing up debris will do that—but Emma’s been more voluntarily doing the heavy lifting so _she_ may have killer thighs but _Emma_ has bulging biceps. She just wants to be pinned to the wall, was that too much to ask? She wants arms wrapping around her legs and lifting her up while she grinds into a flat stomach but Emma— _goddamn Emma_ —has been chivalrous enough to keep her promise of never bringing up that night ever again.

 

Regina leaves Emma at the truck to go explore the place. They managed to find a way to bring down the garage door of the fire station so they know they will at least be somewhat safe from rain or monsters for the night. Emma had climbed onto what was left of the roof to check for any other mammoths that may come their way but the one that they saw had long since moved away from them.

 

There’s a kitchen and a gas stove and she misses the luxuries of _furniture_. It’s such an odd thing to miss but she wants a house or an apartment, some safe place she can call hers, and she wants to come home at night and crash on a couch or a bed. Her dreams feel mundane but she’s never _had_ mundane before.

 

In another life she wonders if she would have met Emma, maybe running into her while trying to get coffee and they meet and they’re both awkward and maybe after a couple of coffee dates there would be dinner dates and then she invites the blonde up into her apartment. Maybe in another life she wouldn’t be so damaged and she would be able to let Emma in and they’d have an easy romance.

 

She shakes her head, because that’s not her right now and she _is_ damaged, they _can’t_ have an easy romance, half because of their circumstances and half because Regina can’t just do _anything_ simply.

 

She goes into the locker room, a little curious herself about the uniforms. There’s really nothing special about them but the people they contained were always well built which probably caused a Pavlov response of drooling over hearing or imagining firemen, firewomen, _firepeople_. Her hand glides down the material and she wonders if it’s ‘rain’ resistant. It’s a possibility; they don’t even know what properties the rain contains that causes things to melt down, like acid, but also creates monsters that roam about.

 

Without thinking too hard on it, she carefully lifts up her sweater, leaving her in a bra. The sweater she’s wearing would have been too thick for the uniform at the top unfortunately. She starts to unbutton her pants and pull them down when she hears shuffling behind her.

 

“Hey!” She looks behind her and sees Emma at the door. “What are you up— _Whoa._ ”

 

She’s caught in an awkward half crouched position with her pants just sliding past her butt while Emma openly stares slack-jawed at her behind.

 

_Is Emma still attracted to her?_

 

It’s been weeks and there has been no mention of that night and Regina just figured that Emma got what she wanted, fucked Regina out of her system and Regina was unwanted yet again.

 

She cranes her neck towards the blonde only to find Emma standing right behind her now; _when did she get so close?_ “Shit, Regina,” Emma breathes out, and she feels just as breathless when she notices exactly how dark the blonde’s eyes are. “You can’t just _strip_ in front of me.”

 

 _She didn’t_ , she wants to wryly protest, but the words are lost when she feels a tentative touch on her hip. She jerks away in surprise. Emma’s eyes go wide in fear and she immediately backs away.

 

“Sor—”

 

Regina spins around and tugs Emma’s loose belt until Regina’s back hits the lockers and she’s staring up into hints of hazel green peeking behind large pools of black pupil. She swallows because she didn’t notice the amount of saliva that had congregated in her mouth until now. Emma’s pupils are big and dark and she stares down on her with such ferocity that Regina swallows down hard again, the gulp audible between them.

 

They’re both breathing heavily; Emma presses Regina further into the lockers with her body, pushing forward with more force than Regina is pulling back until their faces are inches away.

 

Emma’s hands settle on the lockers behind her and she feels deliciously trapped between the lockers and Emma, who looks seconds away from devouring her. She feels attractive again, she feels wanted.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Emma breathes softly against her.

 

“Yes.”

 

Electricity shoots through her body when Emma melds their mouths together.

 

She feels herself being pressed against the metal lockers more and a thigh slips between her legs. She moans at the juxtaposition between the cold metal at her back and the warm body at her front and she feels hands dance across her skin.

 

“Fuck,” Emma hisses out in between kisses, “do you have any idea how hard it is to not kiss you again since that night?” Emma moves down to kiss her along her jaw, down her neck, nipping her ear. But it’s Emma’s words that make her feel a flame alight in her body—that make her feel warm.

 

“You still wanted to kiss me?” And the scoff she gets in response makes her feel ridiculous for even doubting.

 

Emma looks into her eyes. “Of course I do, there’s nothing I want to do more than kiss you, every day.”

 

And because Regina is self-destructive, she can’t just move on and allow herself to be _taken_ by Emma one more time. “Then why didn’t you? We can’t sleep together again but we could still kiss.” She tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice but it’s loud and clear between them.

 

“Kissing you would have made it even harder to keep my hands to myself.” Emma sighs and does the worst thing possible: she steps back from Regina and Regina instantly misses the warmth. “And because you said just one night, I wanted to respect that.” Emma scuffs her shoe against the floor. “Until now, I guess.”

 

“Emma,” she says quickly, “I wanted it too, don’t worry.” In fact, _she_ was the one that pulled the blonde in. And she does want it, she _really_ does, and Emma stopping when she’s _wet_ is frustrating her in more ways than one.

 

“Oh.” Emma’s shoulders sag in relief. “I just—I didn’t want to overstep and make you feel—” she’s stumbling through her words but Regina just steps in close again and takes her hands.

 

“You didn’t. And you’ve been _so_ respectful, Emma, I really appreciate that.” Emma hums at that and she quirks an eyebrow, “But you’ve given me space, and now I’m saying you can _forget_ about that one night rule.” She stares hard into the oblivious blonde’s eyes, hoping Emma will understand what she meant without outright yelling ‘ _Fuck me_ ’.

 

But then Emma just grins and says, “Oh! Yeah, okay, that’s good to know.” She leans forward and pecks her so quick on the mouth Regina doesn’t even have enough time to close her eyes before Emma skips off. Leaving Regina slack jawed and _wanting_ and _ugh_ she is going to _kill_ Emma Swan!

 

 _Idiot!_ She screams in her head because obviously short of demanding she be fucked here and now, the blonde is seriously too _dense_ to know what she wants. _Ugh_ , stupid moron, stupid chivalrous idiot.

 

After picking up her jaw from the floor, she finds that Emma went to patrol on her own and she grumbles but is too irritated— _frustrated, horny, whichever_ —to hunt her down and argue about safety so she starts to make them dinner.

 

* * *

 

She goes back into the kitchen and moves around it with a familiarity she wasn’t aware she had. She used to cook often; it was the only thing she was free to do and it was expected of her to make dinner because she was the _wife_.

 

But despite that, she grew to enjoy cooking.

 

She has to use a match to light the gas stove, but otherwise, she’s happy to have some semblance of a home. She manages to find some pots and pans and she squeals—Regina Mills does _not_ squeal—in excitement, thankful that Emma isn’t around to hear her.

 

She’s a little upset that all she can do is tear open a can and cook it but she tries to make it gourmet by making two pots of canned foods—one soup, the other beans—and sprinkling some graham crackers in the soup. She hums, just genuinely happy to delude herself into thinking she’s actually cooking a lasagna instead so she doesn’t notice another person’s presence until arms are wrapped around her waist. She gasps but then she feels familiar lips on her shoulder and blonde curls cascading down her front and ends up melting into the warm comfort of Emma’s arms.

 

“Mmm, I missed this,” Emma says. Regina did too if she’s being honest.

 

Emma feels like a warm sunny day; it’s surprising. She’s not used to being comfortably intimate after being surprised, but then again, she’s not used to comfort or intimacy without it leading to sex. She groans, making sure to stir the soup so she doesn’t burn down the fire station— _because wouldn’t that be ironic_. “You ran away,” she rasps out.

 

Emma hums, the vibration rumbling along her ear and down her spine. “I needed to cool down.” Regina’s reminded again of their night together and she realized she opened the dam once again. Emma has two modes apparently. Either she never touches Regina, or she touches her all over and Regina is not upset at this change. She feels kisses peppered down her neck and she tilts her head. “Is this okay?”

 

“It’s very okay.”

 

“Awesome,” she hears hissed against her jaw. “Just the sight of coming back and seeing you cooking food for us just makes me want to kiss you.” She feels a kiss being pressed against her temple. “That’s all.”

 

She doesn’t know what to make of that. “So I’m a housewife to you?”

 

Emma chuckles. “No, Regina, you’re way more than that.” And she feels a little better. “I just like the idea of coming home to someone, like life isn’t so bad if you’re there for me.” And that’s the thing, _home_ , it’s a word that’s always at the tip of her tongue but she never let herself think of it.

She hears Emma quietly scoff to herself, “As if you’re ever _just_ a housewife.” She feels hands knead at her shoulders and Regina groans, “you have _no_ idea just how smart and brave and beautiful and absolutely _wonderful_ you are, do you?”

 

“You’re going to make me burn our dinner,” she gently chides and Emma laughs quietly again. She unfortunately stops giving Regina kisses but stays where she is, slightly bent down and wrapped around Regina like she’s protecting her. It all feels very domestic and Regina finds herself imagining what life would be like for them again, outside of this dangerous world.

 

“I wish you came back home to me every day,” she absentmindedly says aloud. “I wish I could actually cook you something that didn’t come out of a can, something good like seafood paella.”

 

Emma groans in despair. “ _God_ , I don’t know what that is, but I bet you’re an excellent chef.”

 

She smiles to herself because Emma can’t see her face. “What if I wasn’t very good at cooking?”

 

“Then I’d eat it and tell you I love it anyway.” Regina laughs, nearly choking on the tears flowing freely down her cheeks from the pain of lost chances and what ifs. Emma doesn’t say anything but she squeezes a little tighter to silently tell her she’s there.

 

They stand there silently, Regina, sniffling and crying, as they both watch the food boil. She wants this. She wants this every day.

 

She manages to find some bowls and pours the food into them and they both sit at the large dining table pretending like this is a normal occurrence. She looks around and sees all the couches and tables and imagines what the place looked like when it was filled with people. She feels Emma grasp her left hand and entwine it with her right one. When she looks over, she sees the blonde trying to spoon mouthfuls of food with her non-dominant hand and she laughs huskily, almost ready to cry again.

 

She reaches over and takes Emma’s spoon and feeds her instead and Emma lights up and grins at her. Emma leans in and takes the spoonful of food with her mouth; Regina laughs at their silliness which nearly makes Emma spit out her food from laughing as well.

 

When they finally finish eating, she grabs the dishes and kisses Emma on the head before she drops them into the sink. She wonders if there are still bugs flying about, wonders if ants still exist. She also wonders why she dropped the dishes into the sink when the water doesn’t work. _Habit,_ she presumes, and she sighs.

 

“It’s getting late,” she hears Emma note behind her and she looks out the window and sees that it’s already dark.

 

She nods. “Tomorrow we find the Haven.”

 

She hears Emma walk up to her and her skin thrums from her presence. “We’ll be fine.” A hand is lightly placed on her arm and moves up and down soothingly.

 

She turns around and tries to give the blonde a smile; it feels weak and nervous and Emma just simply wraps her arms around her shoulders and she melts into the embrace. They both never had any good encounters with other survivors until each other and she hopes their good luck on that continues.

 

She pulls away, feeling marginally better, and decides now is a good time to get some rest. They have a busy day tomorrow.

 

She pulls a willing Emma with her to explore the bunk beds and they stare in awe at being able to sleep in a bed again after months of sleeping in the car. She randomly picks a bunk and plops on it in the most ungraceful manner. She sighs when her head hits the pillow and mattress. It isn’t by any means a 4-star hotel bed, but it’s much better on her back than huddled together in the back of her mercedes. She twists and turns her body to look expectantly at Emma.

 

She watches as Emma scratches her head for a moment, staring at the other beds. She walks over to Regina’s bed and Regina starts to shift to give her more room but then she picks the bed beside Regina’s instead.

 

Regina stares at the blonde, her jaw slightly clenched, as she realizes that the other woman isn’t planning on sleeping with her. Of course she wouldn’t—the bunks are smaller than double beds and why cram themselves onto one bed when there are plenty more? That is what the logical part of her tells her. But she’s irrationally upset at the fact that the blonde doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed as her and she turns away in a huff.

 

She feels the blonde stare at her back, emerald eyes burning a hole in them, before asking, “What’s up?”

 

She scoffs. “Nothing,” she quickly dismisses. “Go to sleep.”

 

“Don’t they say not to go to bed angry?” She can hear the slight humour in the blonde’s voice but she refuses to laugh.

 

“That’s for couples, and we, _Miss Swan_ , are certainly not a couple.”

 

Silence follows, and she can feel Emma floundering on what to do or say to defuse the situation. She hasn’t called the blonde ‘Miss Swan’ in a long time and she’s effectively throwing her into the proverbial dog house by doing so.

 

After a long stretch of _no one_ sleeping, Emma decides to take caution to the wind and roll off her bed. She shuffles over to Regina’s bunk and slips under the covers, not touching without permission, but just being near Regina.

 

Regina turns around so sharply that Emma almost jumps. “Get out of my bed, Miss Swan. I don’t want nor need your pity.”

 

“What am I pitying you for, Regina?” Emma asks softly and Regina’s bottom lip wobbles as she holds in her hurt, her pain.

 

“You think I’m this lonely, unlovable woman.”

 

“I don’t think th—”

 

“You _barge_ into my life,” Regina continues, “you say sweet things, you wrap your arms around me and make me feel _safe_ after all this time and you say things like you’ll _wait_ for me to be ready or how much you _like_ me. But I see now, that it’s all a lie.”

 

“ _What?_ No, Regina—”

 

“You can go back to _your_ bunk now since you’re so glad to finally not have to sleep with me anymore.” And she kicks, lightly, at the blonde to nudge her off the bed but Emma grabs the leg and pulls herself closer. Regina reaches out to her waist and unwraps the arms that have been held protectively around her stomach.

 

“I’m an idiot.” Emma says quietly, and Regina unceremoniously snorts at that. “I thought I was giving you space, and I still remember, _I remember_ the nights where you told me you don’t like being touched. And I didn’t want to—I wanted to give you the space you deserved. But I probably should’ve just asked, so I’m going to ask you now, what would you like me to do?”

 

Regina feels herself soften a little bit but she can still feel the sting of rejection. “I think we should sleep separately for tonight.” Her voice is soft and a lot less demanding and defensive than before but she thinks her decision is for the better.

 

Her insecurities and her suspicions of being used by Emma are still there and all of her thoughts and fears popped up the one night Emma decided she wasn’t going to sleep in her bed. She’s afraid that Emma only flirts with her, only slept with her because she’s the only one here. She’s afraid to fall into this pit of a fake romance only to find out later that Emma will up and leave the first chance she gets.

 

She is unlovable after all.

 

Emma sighs, as though she thinks this is a bad idea, but she apparently doesn’t want to go against Regina’s wishes so she rolls off the bunk and sulks back to her own.

 

Sleep does not come easy for either of them that night. They’re both too used to being wrapped up beside each other and the hurt and pain keeps them tossing and turning. Eventually, Emma falls asleep, and Regina takes a lot longer to do so afterwards. Oddly enough, it’s the sound of Emma’s soft snoring that manages to lull her to sleep and she lose herself in darkness.

 

* * *

 

_A bottle is thrown near her head and she tries to keep herself from flinching. Showing fear or appearing meek only seemed to incite him to beat her some more._

 

_“You’re useless,” he spits in her face. He also starts to call her slurs and demean her with every word possible._

 

_The smell of alcohol attacks her senses and she makes the mistake of moving back._

 

_“What is it? Don’t like to be near your husband?” She keeps silent, her eyes blankly unseeing, removing herself from the situation and waiting for it to be over. “Well it’s obvious that you don’t know your place.”_

 

_He grabs her harshly by the shoulder, pressing his weight down on her as he maneuvers her over to the living room couch and she dreads what is going to happen next._

 

_“You’re my bitch and no one else will love you, no one else will fuck you.” He bends her over the couch and she swallows hard, trying to wipe her mind, trying to forget she’s here in this moment, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall._

 

_“If you weren’t my wife, I wouldn’t even fuck you, so you should be grateful. So take it, bitch.”_

 

“Regina, Regina!”

 

She feels herself being shaken as the remnants of her dream cling to her mind.

 

“Hey, _hey_.” She can’t see very well but she feels a warm body envelop her and that’s when she realizes she’s crying. “I’m here, I got you.” Her tears fall and gets absorbed by the top the blonde’s wearing and her body is wracked with sobs.

 

She feels so much all at once—guilt, shame, anger, more shame, hurt and fear.

 

But then she hears what Emma has been whispering into her ear this whole time.

 _You’re wonderful, you’re amazing, you’re beautiful, you’re loved, you’re strong_.

 

And she wants to believe the blonde’s words, but years of being told the opposite is difficult to shake off. She feels worthless, she feels like nothing but Emma treats her like she’s something precious and powerful like an uncut gem that’s been formed under years of pressure.

 

At the realization that she’s showing her vulnerable side to the blonde, she begins to pull away but Emma just holds on tighter.

 

“It’s fine to lean on someone once in awhile.”

 

And she wants to, she wants to depend on Emma because since day one, Emma has been such a great source of support for her. She doesn’t know what she would do if she suddenly lost that support and that’s what terrifies her. She expects people to pull away and leave her or turn around and hurt her if she shows even the slightest bit of weakness and if Emma leaves her, she knows she will be irrevocably broken then.

 

“I won’t leave. I promise.”

 

Did she say her fears out loud?

 

She looks up from the shirt she has her face buried in and notices it’s still dark. “Shhh.” She feels Emma nudge her back to clinging onto her shirt. “It’s still night, you should sleep.” She nods shakily and draws comfort from the warm body beside her.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, she groans. Her eyes feel puffy and her throat dry but she doesn’t want to leave Emma’s side. Emma, who is still dead to the world and has her arm under Regina’s neck that Regina had apparently used as a pillow all night, and the other arm wrapped tightly around her waist. That hand has slithered up her top and she shivers when she feels the hand scratch lightly at her back.

 

But good things never last and Emma shifts onto her back a few moments later, yawning largely and loudly and stretching with just the one free arm since the other one is still trapped under Regina.

 

“Hey,” Emma greets her sleepily. “How’d you sleep?”

 

It’s a casual question, one that doesn’t go too deep into what happened last night and she’s grateful for it. “Better, thank you.” Emma nods and that’s the end of that conversation so they both get up to eat, pack up and get ready to set off again.

 

They both look forlornly at the fire station before they get into the car and drive off, wondering when they will get to have beds again, or furniture. A lot of the furniture are still intact because they’re on the second floor whereas everything on the first floor is half dissolved. They can only hope that the Haven is somewhere that’s just as good to stay at.

 

Emma’s driving today, and they speed across the bridge to get to Portland. Regina stares out into the ocean and it feels odd to see practically no activity in the daytime on the bridge heading to a city area. She feels the pangs of loneliness and looks over at Emma. The windows are rolled down and blonde hair flies in the wind. Emma looks so lovely like that with the sun beaming down on her, her hair practically luminescent.

 

As if sensing she’s being stared at, Emma looks over at Regina and smiles when their eyes catch and Regina feels herself smiling back. The sting from last night feels much more muted. She doesn’t feel so lonely when she’s with Emma and she imagines she would have still been at her shelter if she never met the blonde, wasting away until there was no more food left.

 

When they get across the bridge and finally into the heart of the city, Regina points to a building that’s still standing fairly sturdily. “We should keep the car there just in case.”

 

Emma looks at her in slight confusion. “An exit strategy?”

 

“Just in case,” she repeats, and Emma nods, slowly pulling the car into the building, the entrance doorless and a gaping hole which is enough for the car to fit through.

 

When they get out Emma looks at the ceiling. “You sure the rain won’t break through and destroy the car while we’re gone?”

 

Regina looks up as well. The ceiling is still holding, a few beams of light leaking through a few small holes here and there, but for a building that’s been through the rain for half a year, it is doing really well. “It should be fine for at least a few months.”

 

“The gas will turn into sludge in the car if it’s in there for more than 3,” Emma points out and she nods.

 

“Let’s hope by then, nothing’s happened and we can live there peacefully.”

 

“Famous last words.”

 

* * *

 

It actually isn’t too hard to find the Haven and they’re not sure how they feel about that. The amount of noise the Haven is making astounds them to be honest; do the people not worry about attracting the rain monsters? It’s a foreign concept to them.

 

It’s built a bit like a fortress, with broken car pieces and steel fences haphazardly stitched together to make the double doors of the entrance. They see people milling about with guns at the top of the gates and watchtowers like a medieval castle and those are built up with steel pipes and debris of all shapes and sizes, all bound together by rope and wire.

 

They’re worried and a little skeptical but they try to walk up to the entrance anyway, only to be stopped by a warning shot. Emma swears loudly and yelps beside her as Regina flinches.

 

“Stay where you are!” they hear someone yell from one of the watchtowers. She feels more than sees multiple pairs of eyes staring at them warily from the gates.

 

Emma’s brash self doesn’t bother to observe. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re trying to kill _people_ when there’s those _things_ are out there killing us off already?” She looks about ready to charge in so Regina pulls at her hand. It manages to stop Emma from getting them both killed but she can feel the blonde fuming beside her.

Someone yells out to them again and asks why they’re there and she nearly answers with ‘ _why else?_ ’ but thinks better of it.

 

“We want to stay at the Haven.”

 

She hears a lot of murmuring afterwards as they contemplate whether to let them in or not and she ends up tightening her grip on the hand in her grasp. She feels Emma squeezing her hand in the most reassuring way she can without verbally telling her she’s there for her and she can’t believe sometimes how much Emma just knows what she needs.

She turns her head to look at the blonde and she looks into sparkling green eyes and she feels a surge of confidence just with Emma by her side.

 

“Let them in.”

 

The double door gates slowly open and they see a woman with a pixie cut standing there with her arms crossed. Guards point their guns and usher them in. Regina puffs up, trying not to appear intimidated and Emma is tense and on guard beside her.

 

“I hear you want to join us.”

 

Regina turns her head to see Emma looking at her as well and they give each other a look as if they aren’t sure if that’s a question or not. Regina turns back to the brunette and nods.

 

“Great!” The woman claps her hands together in enthusiasm and turns to a blond man beside her. “Charming, go give these two a tour, there are free places in B6 and A10,” she says rather cryptically and then turns towards them. “He’ll get you settled in, I hope to see you all at dinner.”

 

“ _Charming_?” Regina mutters under her breath and she can see Emma shaking her head in the corner of her eye.

 

They return the sentiment about seeing each other at dinner and the woman walks off, signaling to a few guards to follow her before disappearing into one of the buildings. The tall blond—who Regina _refuses_ to call _Charming_ , the absurdity—smiles at them and holds out his hand to shake.

 

“Hello, I’m David.”

 

“Emma,” she hears Emma say warily and standoffish.

 

“Hello, my name is Regina, pleased to meet you.” She follows Emma’s suit and doesn’t bother with a last name but her tone is a bit more politically polite. This is a new environment, with a new group of people and never before has Regina felt so grateful for being raised to schmooze with the rich and powerful.

 

“Likewise.” David smiles and shakes her hand and then waves them over. “So follow me, and I’ll show you the place.”

 

He brings them to a small shack with a platinum blond guy sleeping on the only bed there. There are makeshift shelves and cabinets that hold little plastic bottles of medicine and gauze haphazardly strewn about. _This is their medical bay?_ It’s shabby with a poor attempt to make the place resemble a hospital, with splotches of white smeared across the cement walls.

David goes over and nudges the man and hisses, “Whale!” The man snorts awake, confused and disorientated and David sighs.

 

“This is Doctor Whale, he’s our only doctor here.” She looks at the man as dubiously as she looked at the terrible excuse for a shack and David points to each of them, “Emma, Regina, Whale.”

 

When the doctor finally gets his bearings he stares at Emma lecherously. “Well, hey there.”

 

“Nope.” Emma immediately steps back and away, already ready to move on to the next place. Regina doesn’t even try to hold in her laugh when she sees the doctor’s face fall and she goes to follow Emma out.

 

The next place David shows them is apparently where they will stay.

 

“This is your assigned living space, Emma.” It’s tiny with a small makeshift bed and the singular name catches both of their attentions.

 

“Wait, we’re not staying together?” Emma takes a pointed step towards Regina and grabs her hand. It surprises her and she wonders if Emma’s trying to make up for what happened last night.

 

David scratches the back of his head, a little perplexed. “Oh.” He looks around as if he’s searching for someone but then gives up and shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, I guess we can arrange to have you two together, more room for others. Actually, we can probably assign you both to a bigger place but I’ll have to ask Mary Margaret.” He looks over to Emma and she nods.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good, thanks.”

 

Regina feels a burst of warmth and happiness that Emma is so adamant on staying with her.

 

* * *

 

“Emma, what did you used to do before?” David asks after they’ve walked to a few other buildings during the tour. The camp is in an oval shape and most of the small shacks were manmade but the bigger buildings are repurposed old buildings that they just decided to build around.

 

Caught off guard by the question, Emma takes awhile to answer. “Bail bondsperson. Why?”

 

“Is that like a sheriff?” Emma nods. “Great.” They stop at what looks like an armoury and David picks up a rifle and tosses it at Emma; she catches it with a grunt. “You can be on patrol duty.”

 

“Wait,” Regina quickly says, trying to hold in her panic at being separated. “At the very least, shouldn’t you let us _settle_ before telling us to risk our lives?”

 

David frowns and shrugs. “You can’t eat if you don’t work. Mary Margaret’s rule.”

 

That unfortunately makes more sense than it should but she still doesn’t like it. “But separating us?”

 

David looks at her and tries to think of the best way to explain. “Well, what did _you_ used to do before?”

 

“I—” she falters, because there isn’t much she can say she’s good at; _groomed for excellence_ isn’t exactly an occupation.

 

Emma steps closer, not knowing if she should say anything, so she pulls Regina to look at her. Regina can see that Emma is silently asking if she needs help but she just shakes her head.

 

“Alright.” David seems to take Regina’s head shake as the end of the conversation so he whistles at a man wearing loud purple clothing to come over. “Jefferson, take Emma out for patrol and show her the routes.” Regina does not trust the man at all; he has a crazed look in his eyes and he would jerk and stare at things that aren’t there.

 

He prowls around Emma with his mouth shaped in an ‘o.’ “A new person! How utterly wonderfully stupendous!” He does a skip and a hop and tips his hat. “Pleasure to meet you, Em _mamamamama_!”

 

Emma has a grimace etched into her face as she shakes the man’s hand more out of fear than politeness.

 

“Is he stable?” Regina asks loudly, not caring if she offends either man and David scratches the back of his head again.

 

“Jefferson’s been here for awhile, there shouldn’t be any problem.” Regina takes note that her question was not answered in the slightest and she worries for Emma’s safety. She frowns and grips onto the sleeve of Emma’s jacket in slight fear.

 

Emma puts a hand on hers and smiles at her reassuringly. “I’ll be fine, be back soon and we can try out whatever they have for dinner together, yeah?” Emma’s unnecessarily perky and it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself that everything will be fine so Regina lets go, not wanting to shake Emma’s fragile confidence. She nods and Emma starts to lean in but Regina backs away slightly and stops Emma in her tracks.

Emma smiles sadly for a moment but whispers, “See you soon.” And she turns around to leave. Regina watches Emma follow after the prancing man and she sighs, wondering if she’s being petty, wondering if she will regret not giving her a kiss. David taps her on the shoulder and tells her to follow him again and she’s led to a wall with a crowd of people working on it.

 

David whistles again at a tall leggy brunette and the woman sighs but jogs over anyway. “David, I really wish you would stop doing that. It makes me feel like a dog.”

 

He laughs and gestures to the woman, completely ignoring her. “So this is Ruby.”

 

The woman looks her up and down and then grins. “Fresh meat?”

 

“ _Excuse_ me?” She doesn’t know what that means but if she is about to be _cannibalized_ she should make her way out now.

 

Ruby looks taken aback at her affronted tone but then starts to laugh uncontrollably. David has a complicated smile beside her and tries to explain, “She meant to ask if you were new or not.” He turns back to the brunette who is holding her stomach from the pain of laughter. “Ruby, since she’s new, please show her how to rebuild the walls. I have to catch up with Mary Margaret.”

 

The brunette tenses up immediately and Regina can see the slight tinge of fear. “Yeah, sure, you go do that, I got a handle on it here.” David nods gratefully and they watch him hasten away; Ruby looks back at her and smirks again. “So, what brings you to the _Haven_?”

 

Regina frowns at the question. She should have expected mundane small talk but she’s so out of touch with people in general— _she doesn’t really make small talk with Emma_ —that she finds herself not able to answer the question without spilling something personal. And she doesn’t want to say anything personal.

 

“We were tired of running from the monsters,” Regina tries to say in the same nonchalant way Emma would and she almost shrugs before she thinks better of it. She follows the brunette to a stack near the wall and Ruby waves to a few people. The stack is a bin filled with flattened pieces of debris and steel they can use.

 

“ _We?_ ” Ruby unfortunately jumps on immediately and Regina curses under her breath.

 

“Yes, I came with… someone else,” she says rather diplomatically because she doesn’t actually know what she can classify their relationship as. It’s a conversation that never occurred and she realizes they’ve danced around the topic for the past month now.

 

Ruby’s eyebrows lift and her eyes sparkle at the new font of information. Ruby, Regina concludes, must have a penchant for gossip. “Who’s the _someone_?” And Regina sighs, because this conversation is already trying on her patience and she just wants to finish doing— _whatever_ it is they’re doing—get some dinner and rest. She’s given a hammer and a nail and is shown how to hammer the pieces together— _she knows how to hammer a nail, thank you very much_. It feels terribly inefficient and somehow she expected more.

 

Actually, she expected some sort of gathering and for Emma and her to be introduced like new students in a classroom. But no, she’s sent straight to work instead and she feels expendable, not the feeling of community she expected.

 

She’s nudged and she glares at the girl—because that’s what she is—who’s staring at her expectantly. “You didn’t answer, who’s the _someone_?” She can feel the string holding her patience together grow taut and she has to take a few breaths so that she doesn’t _snap_ on her first day here. She had naively hoped that maybe Ruby would take a hint and stop asking if she pointedly ignored the question.

 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, to be honest.”

 

It’s the best she can do without outright telling Ruby that she’s annoyed and the brunette finally understands, staying silent. She glances around quickly in between slapping the square pieces together and sees everyone just mindlessly hammering away. There’s no life here, no happiness, just work and survival. Which was something she was hoping to take her mind away from.

 

A man with a scraggly beard walks over while carrying more pieces they can use for the wall and Regina can visibly see him ogling Ruby. Ruby turns around, probably feeling the eyes on her, and they have a stare down so awkward, Regina starts to feel uncomfortable.

 

“Hey.”

 

Ruby shrugs and replies back with a confused “hey” as well and turns back to the wall. The man staggers there for a moment, hoping to get a little more than that, before he goes back to work and Regina can’t help but roll her eyes. The people here are like _children_ and Regina feels like she’s back in high school.

 

She’s going to be hard-pressed to find someone she can actually converse with here, isn’t she? So far, she hasn’t had the best impression of any of the people here and she’s feeling like she’s done being social for the day. She’s ready to eat and go to sleep and never talk to any of these kids ever again. She looks up and sees that it’s dusk; she hopes Emma comes back safely.

 

“So how did you survive the big wave?”

 

She turns her head to the brunette and sees that she’s waited about as long as she can before breaking the silence. Apparently, Ruby cannot stand the silence any longer than Emma can because Regina’s having flashbacks of when she first met the blonde. She wrinkles her nose, _the big wave?_ It sounds so juvenile. “I survived,” she answers with a clipped, detached coldness to her voice, the memories of how she survived not making the somber mood any better. “That’s all you need to know.”

 

Ruby sighs exasperatedly, “Yeesh, lady, I’m just trying to have a conversation.”

 

And that’s what really makes her snap because somehow, the floozy insinuates that this doomed-to-fail conversation was somehow her fault. “Well maybe not everyone wants to suddenly _spew_ out their life story to some stranger that they’ve met for less than a day.” She throws down the tool in her hand and growls at the girl beside her.

 

Ruby gives her a perplexed frown. “Why do you talk like you’re some stuck up politician? Just speak like a normal person, lady, no one can understand you like that.”

 

 _Oh, that’s it._ “I didn’t realize your vocabulary level only amounts to an 8 year old, or maybe _English_ is what you’re struggling at, in which case maybe you should pick up a book and learn how to read first before trying to converse with an _adult_.”

 

It takes a few seconds for it to hit, but when it does, Ruby finally loses her friendly-but-nosy attitude and growls at her, “Alright, _bitch_ , we have a problem.” Regina rolls her eyes at herself— _good job, couldn’t spend one day without offending someone_ —and steps back to get some distance because the brunette looks about ready to pounce on her.

 

She thinks she should probably placate the girl but her body makes her stand her ground instead. She should not be inciting a fight but she tenses as though she’s ready for one anyway. Ruby lunges for her and they grapple with each other long enough to attract the attention of the other people working at the wall. Ruby is a lot stronger than she looks and she manages to pin Regina against the wall, both of them growling at each other.

 

“Stop, stop!” The scruffy man comes back and pulls them apart. Ruby is still ready to jump back in and Regina has her fingers tightened into fists. The man quickly decides to pull Ruby away since she appears to be more actively aggressive and Regina can’t help but smirk as the leggy brunette gets dragged away.

 

Regina looks around and sees that everyone is staring at her and she glares at them all until they avert their eyes. She picks up her hammer and begins to peacefully beat away at the flat, solid pieces of debris. Wall work still feels inefficient even after spending more time on it, and when a loud horn sound blares across the camp and everyone murmurs and puts down their hammers to leave, she’s all too ready to see Emma, get some food and get some sleep.

 

She breaks away from the crowd and makes her way to the armoury David showed her during the brief tour. She hopes to catch Emma as soon as she gets back because loathe as she is to admit, she does very much miss Emma and her soothing presence, even if she is a little angry at her still.

 

 _They need to talk_ , she thinks; though their ambiguous relationship is her fault, she wants to be clear about how she feels because she doesn’t think she can survive in this world being angry at Emma. It hasn’t even been a day and the tension between them bothers her.

 

“Regina!” she hears from the armoury, and she sees Emma ripping off arm bands and knee pads. She doesn’t know what compels her body to move, but her feet start to speed up and she’s running towards Emma without much consent from the logical side of her brain. Emma sees her and opens her arms to welcome her and she nearly jumps into those arms.

 

It’s a momentary truce on her conflicted feelings, because she’s been trying not to feel worried about Emma but it feels like a futile effort. “Are you okay?” She pushes Emma back a bit and checks that Emma really did come back unscathed by running her hands down her body.

 

Emma laughs at her scrutinizing and stops her from lifting her shirt up in the middle of the camp. “I’m fine, Regina, they put me in like this full protective gear.” Regina blushes when she recalls her behaviour just now.

 

“I— Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 

“It’s fine, you can feel me up any day.” Emma winks and Regina struggles to keep the flare in her cheeks down. This has been the longest they’ve been apart since they’ve met and Regina feels like she’s meeting Emma all over again. She watches Emma strip off the rest of her protective gear and charmingly wave goodbye to the other patrollers. _At least one of them managed to make friends_.

 

When Emma walks up to her, she’s all smiles and Regina melts at the adorable puppy-like way Emma seems to want to hold her hand but doesn’t know if she can. So she reaches out and claims Emma by the hand possessively, because she missed Emma and she might be a little jealous about the way Emma can casually be with other people.

She almost wants to walk into the dining hall hanging off of Emma’s arm, showing that the blonde is hers, but she refrains from doing so because she doesn’t want to treat Emma like an object.

 

“How was your day?” Emma asks conversationally, and Regina almost scoffs but lies through her teeth.

 

“It was good.”

 

Emma looks at her skeptically. “We should go eat, I’m starving.” And then she nudges Regina. “Then you can _actually_ tell me about your day while we’re eating.” She pulls on their entwined hands then leads them towards the dining hall.

 

She pouts, obviously caught in her lie. “You’re always hungry,” she argues, but lets herself be led anyway.

 

“Missed you, by the way,” she hears whispered quietly in her ear, and she feels warmth and happiness spread from her heart. She thinks maybe her fears are unfounded and maybe, _just maybe_ , she can let herself be happy for once.

 

* * *

 

The dining hall was constructed similarly to the watchtowers but with glass roofing and brick walls. The roof is supported by columns of steel poles stuck in cement blocks and she can see lines of chalk drawn on the floor to keep everything symmetrical so it doesn’t all come tumbling down.

There are a few dining tables situated in the middle of the patchwork building—long wood boards with stacked cement blocks acting as the table legs. She’s surprised and impressed—if nothing else—at the time it must have taken to build everything. It _has_ been half a year since the Flood but it still takes quite a bit of coordination to get everything constructed to this point.

 

The tables are in rows, reminiscent of a cafeteria, and they see Mary Margaret and David first since they’re sitting at the table closest to the entrance. She finds it interesting that no one else is sitting beside them considering Mary Margaret’s cheery-like demeanor and David’s easy-going attitude are both a recipe for garnering popularity and attention.

 

She tugs on Emma’s hand and nods towards the couple. They walk up to them and are instantly greeted with a wave from David and an exaggerated smile from Mary Margaret. “Emma, Regina, hello!” Mary Margaret is obnoxiously loud and cheerful and Regina instantly feels the woman’s voice grating on all her nerves. “How has your first day been so far?”

 

 _Terrible_ , she wishes she could say, but instead she grits her teeth and gives her best politician smile. “It was great, thank you for letting us join, we’re honoured to be here.”

 

Emma stays silent beside her so Regina nudges her to say something. “Right, yeah, uh, it’s been great so far. So hey, David, do you know where we’ll be sleeping?”

Regina almost slaps her forehead; the blonde is so blunt and disinterested in easing the conversation in that the two of them combined is just a disaster waiting to happen. Emma is definitely more for casual conversation and not stilted mind games where every word can be used against her.

 

Luckily for them, David is also the type to be casual. He’s in the middle of scarfing down mashed potatoes—which, considering the lack in certain food groups, Regina can only assume tastes _awful_ —and his eyes widen as he realizes he completely forgot about their assigned sleeping situation. After swallowing down the mouthful, he turns to Mary Margaret, who just looks expectantly back at him.

 

“Right, right.” He gestures to the both of them. “They wanted to be together so I said we could get them a bigger living space.”

 

A shadow crosses over Mary Margaret’s face and the whole building falls silent. It’s fear, Regina pinpoints, it’s palpable and she wonders what sort of power and control this petite woman has over all these people. “ _Honey,_ you can’t just _make_ these kinds of decisions without consulting me first.”

 

The man’s eyes widen in fear and he stutters out his apology but the brunette waves it away like it meant nothing to her. Mary Margaret turns to them and smiles that polite but vicious smile. “Good thing there’s at least one more larger living space we can spare, now isn’t it?” she tells them casually as if they’re old friends. “I can lead you there after we’ve all eaten. But for now,” she motions them to go to the old woman running around at the kitchen, “go to Granny and get some food! You both look _famished_.”

 

The smile the woman flashes them is all teeth and Regina replies back with a toothy smile of her own. She thanks them and leaves with many more questions than answers after what she just witnessed.

 

The dining hall is filled with chatter again as if the crisis was somehow averted and this _oppression_ is something that worries her. She squeezes Emma’s hand and receives a squeeze back.

 

She sees Ruby sitting with a beautiful brunette with startling blue eyes and they’re cuddled up close. She inadvertently catches Ruby’s attention and the leggy brunette scowls at her; she nearly staggers backward.

 

“Whoa, what did you do?” Emma quietly laughs beside her.

 

“What makes you think it was my fault?” she says as indignantly as she can.

 

“I know you, you look kinda guilty. If it was her fault you would never feel that way.”

 

She hates that Emma knows her so well.

 

Ruby sits at the same table with the scruffy man she saw earlier today, and Whale. Whale is sitting beside a woman who looks like she has no interest in speaking with the man as he blabbers on beside her. In a far corner, she eyes Jefferson, and he’s speaking to himself, the people around him giving him a wide berth.

 

They make their way to the end of the hall, to an old greying woman manning the kitchen by herself.

 

The old woman—who insists on being called Granny—is brusque but honest and cares in her own way. She yells at Regina for being ‘too skinny’ and loads her dish with potatoes and pasta with tomato paste smothered in between. It is… odd, but she appreciates the sentiment, however vile tasting the food may be.

 

They sit at a table a little ways away from everyone else—which is difficult, considering how packed it is—because she isn’t quite in a socializing mood just yet and Emma has no issues with her decision.

“How long do potatoes last anyway?” Emma wonders aloud as she prods the mashed potatoes. As Regina suspected, the potatoes don’t have any butter so it’s just boiled potatoes in a much flatter shape.

 

“Months, when put in a dry environment I would presume.” She eats the food with distaste written all over her face but it’s food and for once she doesn’t have to worry about dwindling supplies and where to find their next meal.

 

“So are we ever going to talk about what happened today or…?”

 

Regina sighs and she tells herself it’s only because Emma cares. “I… _may_ have gotten into a _slight_ altercation with Ruby over there.” She nods towards the scantily clad brunette and Emma sniggers at her words.

 

“Slight altercation?”

 

Regina sniffs haughtily. “There were some grappling, and some pushing, and getting pinned to the wall.”

 

Emma looks at her as if she can’t decide whether she wants to laugh or kiss her and Regina pouts a little. “Sounds like you had an interesting day then.” Emma opts to laugh instead and Regina wonders if the rebuff from this morning has made Emma afraid to initiate contact again.

 

They really need to talk.

 

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” she grumbles. “How was your day?”

 

Emma perks up and smiles as if she didn’t expect Regina to care, but of course she _cares_. She cares more than she admits. “Not bad, patrolling is pretty chill.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes at the word ‘ _chill_ ’ but doesn’t comment on it. “What about…?” She subtly gestures towards Jefferson and Emma laughs.

 

“Dude’s insane, but he does his own thing so it wasn’t that bad working with him. He called me a ‘ _Saviour_ ’ or something and it was pretty weird.” Emma shrugs and finishes the last of her food while Regina is stuck at how nonchalant Emma is towards the obviously _mentally ill man_. Then again, curing mental illness is a 1st world luxury, and it’s just something they all have to get used to and live with in this type of world.

 

She works on her dinner as well. Mary Margaret walks up to them when they’re done and are just sitting there chatting. The raven-haired woman gestures for them to follow her and they stand up and follow her stride.

 

They walk to an area with a bunch of little shacks and stop at a slightly larger place than what was originally Emma’s living space.

“Well, here it is, home sweet home!” the woman chirps and Regina refrains from rolling her eyes.

 

“Thanks for getting us a bigger space.” Emma says from beside her.

 

“Oh, it was no problem at all!” the woman lies, even though the evidence of the inconvenience was witnessed by everyone at the dining hall. “It’s nice to see such _close friends_ wanting to live with each other.” She inadvertently raises an eyebrow at the word ‘ _friends_ ’ and hears Emma nearly choke from holding in her laughter.

 

“Well, you know, we’re just doing what we can to survive and I don’t know if I can sleep anymore without Regina there beside me.” She feels an arm around her waist and she turns around to see Emma grin mischievously at her; she places a hand over her mouth to cover her smile.

 

“That sounds wonderful! I feel like you’ll both be a great addition to our community!” The woman’s enthusiasm is over the top but Regina feels a little better at having their inside joke fly right over her. “I’ll see the two of you bright and early tomorrow!” Mary Margaret says as she waves goodbye.

 

“God,” she mutters when the woman is out of sight, “I wish I could wring her neck.”

 

Emma barks out a laugh and moves her hand up to around her arms instead and gives her a more platonic one-armed hug. “What do you think will happen if we happen to have really loud sex?” she casually jokes; Regina sputters and she can feel her face go hot. “Think we’ll get upgraded to ‘gal pals’?”

 

She turns to face Emma, and even though they still have to address this thing between them, she smirks, “Why don’t we try and find out? Why not go all in and try a _sexathon_?” She catches Emma so off-guard that Emma’s hand drops from her arms and Regina takes the opportunity to walk into the shack.

 

It’s shoddy and made with the same material as the outer walls she worked on this morning—patched together with squares of debris and metal. She can see the start of something being built to cover the entire residential area. It will add more layers of rain protection so she can see the benefits of it and she won’t have to worry about the roof suddenly melting. But that still doesn’t add much to the individual shacks other than relief that they won’t be rained on. Inside the shack there’s a makeshift table with two stools beside it and an open doorway to a ‘room’ with a bed riddled with holes.

 

The mattress must have gone through the rain while the people here tried to set everything up. It isn’t by any means ideal, but it is as accommodating as it will get without a shelter.

 

“Yikes,” Emma exclaims as she examines the place. “I might prefer the car.”

 

“It’ll have to do for now. Maybe we can work to improve it ourselves.”

 

Emma hums and then grins, “I’m definitely all for improving the bed, and then,” she waggles her eyebrows, “maybe we can _break_ _it in_?” Regina rolls her eyes and smacks the woman lightly on the shoulder as Emma chuckles and lazily dodges.

 

“About that,” she says seriously, which catches Emma’s attention, “we should probably talk.”

 

“Oh,” Emma says, crestfallen. “That doesn’t sound good.”

 

She goes to sit over on the bed because the two stools seem unappealing to sit on, and it would make a tense conversation even tenser. Emma follows, as she suspected she would, and they sit there in silence for a moment as Regina tries to come up with the words.

 

She turns and looks at the woman that’s been with her since they’ve met. They haven’t been together long but she can’t imagine her life without Emma now. Emma’s sitting there, fiddling with her fingers nervously, and she wants to grab her hand and tell her it’s okay but how can she, when she doesn’t know what to do herself?

 

“Regina.” Emma breaks her out of her thoughts and grasps Regina’s hand like she originally wanted to do. “You know you don’t owe me anything.”

 

Regina stares at Emma as if she has two heads. “What?”

 

Emma frowns slightly. “When I told you I love you, I don’t mean to chain you to me. You’re free to love whomever you want and it doesn’t have to be me. I just thought you deserved to be loved so I’ve been freely expressing how I felt about you. I’m sorry about all the flirting, I’ll tone it down.”

 

And she can’t believe it, because this _idiot_.

 

Regina is the one that’s been afraid to put her emotions on the line, but Emma has been risking herself, _still_ risking her emotional state with each proclamation of love. “I don’t deserve you, Emma.”

 

Emma slumps. “Yeah, I figured, you’re pretty amazing so you deserve a lot better.”

 

 _No. “_ No.” Regina grabs the stubborn woman in front of her by the face until their eyes meet. “ _You_ are the one that deserves _so_ much more, Emma. You’re beautiful, inside and out and I’m sorry I haven’t been telling you that. I’ve been just so _afraid_ —” She shakes as she makes her confession.  “Afraid that you don’t actually love me for me. That you’re only with me because there’s no other option out there. And you’re charismatic, you speak to others well. Someday you’re going to find someone better and leave me for them and I ca— _I can’t_.”

 

Emma catches her in her arms as she cries and Emma shushes soothingly in her ear. “You’re gorgeous and smart and you have so much love to give, Regina. Trust me, when I say, _I love you_ , I mean _all_ of you. And that includes your mood swings and your temper.” Regina laughs against Emma’s shoulder and it’s muffled by the shirt. “You know I’ll wait for you if you’re not there yet, but please trust me, please _believe_ that you’re worthy and that you deserve all the love and support in the world.”

 

She sniffs and rubs her nose and tears against Emma’s shirt much to her chagrin and Emma’s mock outrage makes her laugh. “So you’re not mad at me anymore?” Emma asks hesitantly and she shakes her head.

 

“I don’t think I ever was.” She pulls away from Emma and is greeted with a beaming smile.

 

Emma makes sure their eyes meet again and she sees the sparkle in hazel green eyes. “Is now a good time to break the bed in?” Emma cheekily asks while nodding to the head of the bed. Regina chuckles—she really loves the way Emma goofily tries to cheer her up. She shakes her head and stands up.

 

“Let’s focus on finding some blankets so we don’t freeze in the middle of the night.”

 

She steps out of their shack, quickly turning and nearly bumping into Emma who was following close behind. She double checks if her face is okay and Emma nods, kissing her on the forehead. “Pretty as always.” She refuses the blush but she thinks it isn’t enough to stop it from taking over her cheeks. She enjoys Emma’s attention once again and she never wants fear to come between them again.

 

It’s late but she knocks on their neighbour’s door only for a prim looking woman to rip the door open and yell out “What?”

 

She bristles but manages to tamp down her anger. “Hi, my name is Regina, may you point us to where we may obtain some blankets for our new bed?”

 

The woman is wearing all blue and looks them up and down, sneering out, “Oh, you’re new.” She waves them away like they’re common bugs. “I don’t know, go ask someone else.”

 

The door then slams shut. “Well, that was a promising start,” Emma sighs out behind her and her good mood is effectively ruined.

 

She rolls her eyes because this has been par for the course all day for her today. She just really cannot converse with people. “I really hope not everyone is like this but I’m really tired of this place already.”

 

Emma quietly chuckles and brings her in to kiss her on the side of her temple before bypassing her and knocking on another door, leaving Regina to trail behind. A brunette with brilliant blue eyes opens the door. She recognizes the woman as the one sitting cozily with Ruby at the dining hall earlier.

 

“Yes?” she asks with a bit of an accent.

 

“Hey, we’re your new neighbours.” Emma points to their shack. “You wouldn’t happen to have any spare blankets or know where we could get some, would you?”

 

“Oh!” The brunette smiles and Regina scoffs a little. Her luck with other people is truly abysmal and _of course_ puppy-eyed Emma would get the only kind person in this entire encampment. The blue-eyed woman shuffles back into her shack and Regina hears a conversation with another female voice before the woman pops back out again.

The woman holds out a few blankets in her arms and passes them to Emma. “We have a distribution center over there,” and she points to a wide building near the center of the Haven. “But it’s late so it’s probably locked but you can have my spare blankets.”

 

Emma gives a beaming smile. “Thanks!” They wave goodbye to each other and part amicably with Emma coming back to Regina with a slightly smug grin.

 

“Oh shush.”

 

The blonde’s grin gets bigger and they both head back into their shack.

 

They lay one of the blankets over the rain-eaten mattress to hopefully cover the holes and leave the remaining blankets to use for covering themselves. The shack doesn’t have much insulation so she’s grateful just for having another person to share body heat with.

There’s no washroom or toilet anywhere, and the one David showed her on the tour is too far away to travel to at night. So they take turns in walking a certain distance and just doing their business somewhere on the ground.

 

When they snuggle in bed together, Regina misses being in Emma’s arms. She wraps her own arms around Emma’s waist and pulls her in as much as she can. She can’t help it; she wants, she _needs_ the contact.

 

It takes awhile but the soft rhythm of their breathing and the warmth of Emma’s body lulls her to sleep.

 

* * *

 

In the middle of the night, a loud siren pierces the air and she gasps awake.

 

On instinct she reaches forward and grasps onto a stretchy shirt and almost pulls so hard it rips. They don’t have a flashlight so it’s pitch black and it took a long time for her to fall asleep in the first place. She groans, realizing it will take forever to fall asleep again. She feels a hand on top of hers and she jolts. “ _Easy_ ,” she hears whispered in the dark. “I’m right here, you’re safe.”

 

She squirms a little until she feels her body collide with Emma’s and she curls up into a ball. Emma curls around her like a protective shield and wraps an arm around her head to cover her face as she buries her head in Emma’s chest.

 

“We’re getting a light for our house first thing tomorrow,” she feels mumbled into her hair and she barks out a surprised laugh.

 

“I love you, Regina.” Emma again surprises her with those three words and she nearly sputters.

 

“I—”

 

“I’m here for you, get some sleep.” She sniffs, a little irritated at the dismissal but she hears the other woman’s heart pound and she instead presses a kiss against the skin above the beating heart. Knowing what Emma risks each time and promising that she will protect her heart the best she can.

 

“Good night, Emma.”

 

“Night.”

 


	8. Infiltration

Early in the morning the next day they both jolt awake due to the sound of a loud horn blaring across the entire camp.

 

Emma swears up a storm as they both get dressed and complains about how early it is and _the sun isn’t even up yet, Regina!_ She’s silent but that’s because she can’t even hear herself think over the loud noise.

 

“They’re going to attract every single monster as well as wake the dead at this rate,” she manages to hears herself mutter and then the horn finally stops but they hear a lot of people clamouring outside. Confused, they follow everyone to the center of the Haven. It’s chilly out and she can see her breath each time she breathes out. There’s a large square on the floor lined with brick and a layer of ice had formed on top. Everyone scrambled on top of it but is slipping and sliding from the slick flooring.

 

There’s a pedestal built up front on top of a raised platform and of course _Mary Margaret_ is up at the pedestal. Everyone is lined up, obediently ready to hear her orders for the day. It’s strangely reminiscent of small town mayors or dictators, _whichever_.

 

“Good morning everyone!” the woman chirps and that was all Regina can stand already.

 

She gets assigned to patrol duty today and Emma reassures her that “They’ve got a whole system, and the gear they give out to patrollers is pretty handy, I hear it’s rain resistant,” which inspires some confidence in her but she’s skeptical of her party.

 

She’s grouped with Ruby, who sullenly rolls her eyes at her, and a quiet scruffy man named Graham. He’s the same man that dragged Ruby away from her during the fight. He’s tall and ruggish-looking in a way that most women would probably swoon over, though it looks like he already has someone in his sights as he throws his doe eyes at Ruby. Which is ridiculous, because Regina is sure that Ruby is with their beautiful brunette neighbour. She nearly scoffs aloud at this realization; the people here are like _children_ , it’s like being in high school all over again.

 

Mary Margaret pulls her aside before she can get outfitted. “Regina, I heard you and Ruby had a disagreement.”

 

Regina nearly laughs at that understatement; she decides to nod instead.

 

“We don’t condone that kind of behaviour. Everyone must work together or we’ll never achieve our sense of community.” Mary Margaret frowns at her and Regina is tempted to tell her that the _‘sense of community’_ they currently have is severely lacking. “So I’m putting both you and Ruby on the same team. I want you both to work together and solve your differences.” Mary Margaret looks at her expectantly so she reluctantly agrees and heads back to her group.

 

She gets outfitted in heavy gear that covers her body from the neck down, with a sturdy helmet to protect her head from both trauma and rain. She’s also given a pistol that she doesn’t know how to use and she’s given a very brief explanation on how to shoot a gun. It admittedly is the safest she’s felt when it comes to the idea of walking around patrolling while there are monsters outside.

 

Emma’s given the task of carrying things from point A to point B all day so she has a sweaty blonde to look forward to when she gets back—she laughs inwardly at her thoughts. She hugs Emma before the gates open, looking very much like a couple before a war, and she steps outside the Haven.

 

It’s quiet outside, even with the sounds of shouting and clanging coming from behind them. But she stays alert in case there are any monsters. The other two patrollers in her group, however, look relaxed as they scan around leisurely.

 

“Shouldn’t we be more on the lookout for food and supplies?”

 

Ruby rolls her eyes and Graham looks sheepish. “Honestly, we’re really just patrolling the perimeters. They’re working on making a food farm and we have quite a lot of supplies already. If we see something good we’ll bring it in, but otherwise,” he points to Ruby who’s already wandering around up ahead, “it’s pretty relaxed.”

 

She shakes her head; she can’t understand their perceived lack of danger. Did staying in the Haven make them all complacent? She hopes she doesn’t get to that point. She’s survived this long; she is not about to let her guard down and die from something stupid.

 

Wanting to suss out more information on the Haven and its people, she runs and catches up to the scruffy man until they walk in step. “How long have you stayed at the Haven?” This is the most she can manage when it comes to small talk without politics and she hopes she doesn’t immediately offend people like yesterday.

 

“Oh.” He looks a bit surprised at the question. “I guess I was here when it started, so since the big wave really.” Even though she heard it before, _the big wave_ still sounds horribly juvenile.

 

She’s happy that she found what appears to be a font of information because apparently Graham is one of the founders of the Haven. “How did it start?” she asks as innocently as she can.

 

The man scratches his beard as he contemplates his answer. “I was actually a bodyguard for Miss Blanchard before this all happened.”

 

She scrunches up her face because not only does she not know who ‘Miss Blanchard’ is, but she sounds snobbish and similar to the girls she used to see at dinner parties.

 

“Mary Margaret?” he clarifies when she gives him the blankest stare. _Oh god_ , Mary Margaret was part of the upper class. It also explains why she immediately took control and why Regina doesn’t like her. She shakes her head in disbelief. _Emma would love to hear this_.

 

“Hey!” Ruby yells out from a distance, breaking them both from the conversation, and they quickly run over. The brunette is standing in front of a solid ice statue of a monster. It _must_ be winter if the weather can freeze such a large body of water, or something water-like. It must have been prowling around or it sensed that being frozen was a danger because it is still in its hunting form and not its dormant puddle form.

 

She gets up close to it; it’s like an elaborate ice sculpture. “Pretty neat, right?” Ruby looks at her smugly as she analyzes the textures and bumps of the monster. She’s never had the chance to really look at these things, it’s large and round at the top and flat on the bottom, making it look like an ice cream scoop to be honest.

 

She’s not sure why she thought of ice cream; it must be because it’s so cold and she realizes she will never have that treat in her life again.

 

Almost attached to it is a long noseless snout and a giant maw that drooped and gooped together like sludge. The ice makes it brighter, almost making the monster shine, but she can see a bit of the original dirty brown and blue colour underneath the icy layer.

 

When she looks up she sees that the other two have already lost interest in the monster and are scoping the area. They suddenly look at lot more alert, canvassing what is around and calculating their current proximity to the camp. It’s odd; she wonders if they are just keeping track of where the monster is so they can avoid it.

 

But these things move around every once in awhile; whenever gravity would whimsically decide to throw debris onto the ground, the monsters would form and head towards it. And that’s if it wasn’t frozen. She can’t see why other people need to avoid this place if the monster isn’t going anywhere. Overall, none of it makes sense to her.

 

They continue forward but there is nothing else of interest; Graham said they technically picked the area clean by now so they don’t expect to find anything. They trudge back when it’s dark, Regina feeling like she wasted a lot of time, and Ruby hollering—yes, _hollering_ , she literally yells out “Holla!”—at the guards in the watchtowers and the gates opened.

Ruby makes a strange signal to one of the guards and he runs off and they wait there for someone or something, Regina isn’t sure. Eventually Mary Margaret dashes towards them and when she gets to them, she speaks to Ruby in hushed tones.

 

The pixie-haired woman turns in surprise when she notices Regina. “Oh, Regina, thank you for your hard work! You may go for dinner now.” Regina’s eye twitches; she recognizes a dismissal when she hears one and she’s stubborn enough to antagonize the woman.

 

“Are you sure?” she drawls. “If there’s anything I can help with...”

 

Mary Margaret quickly shakes her head and her hands. “Oh _no no_ , don’t worry about it! We got it covered here!” The woman smiles and it feels even more fake now with the added knowledge that the woman was once part of the upper class. If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s recognizing when rich people were acting very, _very_ fake.

 

But there isn’t much she can do at the moment, especially with how new she is still, so she nods and wanders off to where she last saw Emma. She wants to tell Emma about what she saw and what she heard and maybe get a hug and she can maybe take a quick inhale.

 

She finds the blonde—it doesn’t take long—and she is not disappointed in the slightest.

 

She’s vaguely aware that she’s objectifying Emma to the highest degree but she really can’t help it. She finds the woman easily lifting and carrying a block of debris right on her shoulders as the sweat glistens off of her in the most appealing way. She has a white tank top on that looks dirty and sweaty and Regina just wants to bury her nose in it.

 

The tank top also shows off the blonde’s beautifully sculpted arms and back muscles and Regina feels her tongue involuntarily run around her lips and teeth. Emma’s long blonde hair is up so Regina can see the tendons flexing on her neck with each movement. She wants to bite down and suck. Emma Swan looks good enough to _eat_.

 

In slow motion, Emma turns around—her ponytail flailing in the wind—and when she sees Regina, her face morphs into a giant smile. Emma is beaming at the sight of her and Regina feels her heart stop, breathing proving difficult. Emma is beautiful, she is radiant, and Regina wishes she could properly express how much Emma means to her.

 

“Regina! You’re back!” Emma drops everything she’s carrying back into the towering pile of debris and clambers down to her. Before she can stop her, Regina’s wrapped up in strong arms and despite all the protests she had readied in her mind to say, once she’s back in Emma’s arms, she melts, can feel all the tension of the day releasing and she buries a nose in Emma’s neck, breathing in. It’s shameful of her to admit, but she loves the sweaty smell of the blonde.

 

Emma backs away then as if she just remembered something. “Oh, shoot, sorry, I’m really sweaty, I’m just getting it all over you now.”

 

“No!” Emma raises an eyebrow at Regina’s immediate denial. “ _No,_ it’s fine, don’t worry too much about it.” She coughs to hide the shrillness of her voice but Emma just smiles in confusion.

 

Regina is saved from having to explain further by David grunting behind them, “Oh hey Regina, didn’t realize it was so late already. I should go and sound the horn.”

 

“Good evening, David,” she greets politely, but wonders who he used to be before the Flood. “David, how did you meet Mary Margaret, if I may ask?”

 

His eyes widen before softening into a doe-eyed look. “Oh well, I met her after the big wave. She was scouring around for supplies while I stayed in one of the buildings for cover. She stole some supplies from me so I made a trap to get her back.” He looks up dreamily. “From there we went from this bickering duo to a True Love couple.” He looks at Regina then. “It was magical.”

 

If she could gag, she would. It may have been brief but it was overly sappy and sentimental and didn’t _actually_ answer her curiosity at all. “So then,” she presses on, “what did you do before _the big wave_?” she spits out in distaste and she can feel Emma beside her, confused about this line of questioning. She feels a quick squeeze around her hand and she squeezes twice quickly back.

 

 _What are you doing?_ Emma had silently asked.

 

_I’ll tell you later._

 

The man grins. “I used to be a farmer, I kinda miss the open plane and the smell of grass and sheep.” He looks a little wistful and Regina can conclude that this man is innocent, as innocent as he can be to the true nature of Mary Margaret. But then again, she doesn’t know what to expect when meeting someone in this kind of circumstance.

 

She turns to look at Emma for a moment. “You wouldn’t lie to me about who you really were in the past would you?”

 

It’s sudden and Emma didn’t expect the questions to turn on her, so unexpected that she falters for a moment and Regina instantly lets go and steps back.

 

“Regina…”

 

“No, I’m—” Her hands come up to cover her stomach defensively. “I’m going to go back, you can stay as long as you want.”

 

She turns and flies back to their shack, hearing Emma call out to her from behind. What could Emma be hiding from her? After being together for months, she thought they knew each other well by now, but there’s something the blonde is hiding from her.

 

She goes directly onto the bed and sulks there as Emma follows her in and lingers by the edge of it.

 

“Regina…” Emma trails off and lightly places one knee on the bed. “What I’m hiding about myself was a point in time that I wanted to just forget. I didn’t want you to suddenly have this bad image of me.”

 

“I’ve told you about my husband’s abuse, you know about my family, you know what it used to be like for me, do you think I’m _proud_ of _any_ of that?” She sits up on her knees and points an accusing finger at her. “ _You_ told me you hated it when people lied to you so I’ve been _nothing_ but honest about my past and you can’t do the same for me?”

 

Emma stares at her with wide apologetic eyes past the finger she has pointed at her nose for a long moment until she turns around and sits down on the edge of the bed in a loud huff. She looks so defeated and Regina can see the slump in her shoulders. It absolutely infuriates her that she still wants to go comfort the blonde when she feels so betrayed.

 

The blonde picks at the hem of their dirty blanket and fiddles with it until it begins to unravel and out of panic, she stops and puts her hands in her lap instead.

 

Regina can feel her anger draining out of her the longer the silence continues and when she isn’t angry anymore, she shuffles over to Emma slowly. “Emma, whatever it is, it’s fine. I know the you now and not the you before.” Emma looks up, hope in her eyes, and Regina can’t help but continue, “When you see me, do you see a victim?”

 

Emma is already taking a breath to speak before she even finishes the sentence. “ _No!_ Of course not! You’re _way_ more than that!” She’s about to curl a reassuring hand around Regina’s arm until she stops; Regina smiles at the vehement denial and Emma’s want to comfort her. She knows who Emma is: a wonderful woman who has supported her during her high and low times.

 

“Exactly.” Emma slumps when Regina proves her point. “So whatever you may have done in the past is over now.”

 

Emma heaves out a sigh. “I’m a criminal, Regina.”

 

Her heart stops for a moment, “What?”

 

Emma put her face into her hands and says, her voice muffled, “I was in jail for stealing jewelry.” Emma peeks out of her hands when Regina doesn’t say anything more and continues, as though just admitting that gave her the courage to keep going, “You know I’m an orphan, you know I was found on the side of the street when I was a baby and you know I was a foster kid and jumped around homes a lot.”

 

Regina nods, and honestly, life has been cruel to Emma but she’s been so nonchalant about everything that it’s easy to forget all the hardships the woman has been through.

 

“What you didn’t know is, I turned to a life of crime after I aged out of the system.” Emma shakes her head as if she’s trying to shake out the memories from her mind. “What was I supposed to do? I had no money, no home, no family, so I figured I’d get everything myself.” She turns her head to look at Regina and watches her reaction. Regina has been stoically listening to her story, not giving what she’s feeling away at all.

 

Truth is, she doesn’t know what to feel; on one hand, she has unknowingly lived with a criminal, but on the other hand, does that really change how she perceives the woman? Emma only did what she could with the cards the world dealt her. And it’s not like she went around killing people. Regina would’ve had much more complex feelings if Emma was a serial killer if she’s being honest.

 

Her eyes catch Emma’s and she smiles, reaching out a hand and laying it comfortingly on Emma’s arm. Emma immediately lets out a large breath and falls backward from relief. “So you don’t hate me?” she asks hopefully and Regina shakes her head.

 

“Emma, I was only angry that you thought you would hide a part of yourself from me when it’s a part of what made you, you. You’re strong, and you did what you had to do to survive. It didn’t make it right, but you’re not even that person anymore, right?”

 

“No.” Emma shakes her head, her hair clumping up with static when she rubs it against the blankets. “I stopped stealing when I got out of jail and tried to redeem myself.”

 

Regina chuckles out, “By taking down people that were stealing from the state?”

 

Emma grins. “Yeah, what better way, right?”

 

They smiled at each other, both full of gratitude for each other and Regina opens her arms. Emma sits up and falls into her, apparently feeling vulnerable and small and Regina presses kisses against the crown of Emma’s head as they both lay down on the bed together.

 

“I really do love you,” Emma mumbles out, wanting to clearly express that her feelings aren’t a lie.

 

 _And I_ —, Regina begins to think but instead nods and presses another kiss against a blonde head.

 

* * *

 

The next day is a little less hectic than the day before because they’re expecting the wake up call this time. They are still grumpy about it, however, and that doesn’t look like it’s going to change any time soon.

 

She’s assigned patrol again because Ruby needs to rest and Emma did such a good job moving the supplies and debris last time she’s also assigned the same role as yesterday. Regina’s paired with Jefferson this time since Graham went to repair the wall. She wonders what happened to Ruby, because she looked fine the day before.

 

Jefferson is crazy.

 

That’s really all she can say to describe the man. He’s dressed in spirals today; he wore his clothes over his gear proclaiming he could hypnotize anyone or anything that got near. She admittedly gets dizzy whenever she looks at him due to the nauseating patterns on his clothing.

 

There are only two of them so they have to split up to cover more ground; Jefferson’s rambling on about different worlds and warns her not to fall down any rabbit holes. She shakes her head, completely in disbelief at the idea of letting this man patrol on his own, but separates from him anyway.

 

It’s cold today as well. Ice lines the uneven cement floors and she almost slips once or twice. She goes into a few buildings, sifting through broken furniture and finding absolutely nothing of value.

 

As she keeps walking, she finds herself in the same place as yesterday where they found the frozen monster. Curiosity getting the better of her, she walks to where she remembers the monster being, but doesn’t see it anymore.

 

_That’s confusing._

 

It’s still winter, it’s still cold, there’s still ice everywhere. Did it somehow defrost and wander off? She walks a little faster to get closer and almost slips forwards. When she gets to the exact spot where the monster used to be, she sees a large circle of ice on the ground.

 

It _was_ here, and these are the remains.

 

She wonders if someone moved it, hacked the bottom of the monster to detach it from the ground and carry it elsewhere. If so, then who and why would they do such a thing? She kneels on the floor and briefly skims a finger against the middle of the remaining slab of ice, then draws her hand back, hissing at the stinging pain. Bringing her hand up, she notices her finger is red as if it was briefly exposed to the rain. Somehow, the middle part is still _active_ and she gets up and stumbles backwards trying to get away from it.

 

None of it makes sense to her so she shakes her head and walks off to somewhere new. She pretends to search and sift through debris but she can’t take her mind off of it.

 

Something is wrong, and she wants to know _what_.

 

She patrols around the perimeter of the Haven before meeting back with Jefferson, who greets her with even more insanity than before. His words are a garbled mess and his sentences are completely disjointed. She nods at him as if they’re having a proper conversation as he blathers on while they head up to the doors of the camp.

 

She yells out to the guards and the double doors open up to Mary Margaret who’s waiting for them this time.

 

“Jefferson,” she greets with a tight smile. “Anything to report today?”

 

The man bows as if she is _royalty_ and Regina resists the urge to scoff and roll her eyes. “Nay, nae, neigh, fair lady White, white like Snow, driven Snow, Snow White!” He hops around, madness in his eyes as he continues in this manner and Mary Margaret nods slowly and stares like this is a regular occurrence, which it probably is.

 

“Good work.” Again a tight smile is stretched across the skin of her face. “Since Red is out, I’ll need you to do her work today.”

 

“Oh me, oh my, dear dear lady Red. Red like blood, Red like skin, burning, itching, _when will it stop!_ ”

 

Her ears perk at that; it’s an odd and _disturbing_ thing to say and something about it feels familiar.

 

“Right,” the pixie-haired woman says with a grit to her teeth, “follow your _brothers_ , Jefferson.” and gestures to a couple of guards standing a few feet behind them.

 

The man happily skips over while humming out, “Scream, scream, air filled with cries. Are they tears? Nobody knows!”

 

The brunette then focuses on Regina when Jefferson steps away and she repeats the same, _thank you for your hard work Regina_ , line that she said yesterday and Regina nods and steps away, preoccupied with the information she learned today. There is something strange about what Jefferson said that feels like an important clue and not entirely the ramblings of a madman.

 

She subtly glances behind her as Mary Margaret leads the guards and Jefferson into a warehouse like building. It looks to be one of the few buildings that are not man-made and it’s fortified with the same material as everything else.

 

She files it all away, not sure what she can even say to Emma when she isn’t entirely sure what she’s so suspicious of in the first place.

 

Emma is in the same spot as yesterday and she goes to greet her, happy to be welcomed back with a radiant smile and utter relief that yesterday's conversation didn’t alter the way they interact in the slightest. “Hey,” Emma says while reaching over to press a kiss against her temple and she leans into the touch.

 

“Hey,” she replies back with a tiredness she feels in her bones and Emma frowns at the tone.

 

“What’s wrong?” Regina shakes her head and Emma thankfully doesn’t persist. They head to the dining hall and can feel the strong tension in the building. The cook is grouchy and heavily displeased over something that she and Emma are unaware of. The old woman would make snide comments about Mary Margaret every once in awhile and no one would say anything.

 

When Regina walks over to claim her dinner, Granny sneers at her. “You _bourgeoisie_ are all the same!” she exclaims in her face and normally Regina would be offended and sneer back, but she’s completely exhausted today.

 

She doesn’t want to deal with it, so she simply nods. “Probably.”

 

Granny is instantly mollified at the idea that someone finally agrees with her and maybe unnecessarily slaps on more food than usual. “At least _you_ ain’t so self righteous,” the woman mutters out as she hands Regina back her plate. She thanks her and goes to sit with Emma, who had gotten her food first and found a seat for them.

 

Emma can tell she isn’t in the mood and graciously picked a spot at a more secluded corner. She would kiss the woman in front of everyone if she had the energy to do so.

 

“It’s certainly tense today.” Emma nods to the room when Regina approaches her.

 

“Something’s wrong,” she mutters under her breath so only the blonde can hear her. Emma looks a little confused but she doesn’t outright deny it. “Let’s go visit Ruby later.” Emma’s eyebrows shoot up; Regina doesn’t exactly have the best relationship with the leggy brunette since they entered the Haven, so even Regina is aware that it’s odd that she’s extending a courtesy she would normally only give to people she cares about.

 

Emma nods and they quietly finish their dinner. The food tastes bland compared to when they first entered and she wonders if the mood is affecting the taste of the food.

 

When they finish eating, they walk over to the medical shack; the door is wide open and they catch Whale just as he’s exiting the shack.

 

“Oh, hey, perfect timing, I need to step out for a moment, can you look after Ruby for me?”

 

It _is_ perfect timing, because now she can question the girl without prying eyes. “Of course,” she smiles politely and the man strides off to the warehouse. She watches him run over to the door and knock a specific way before someone sticks their head out and looks cautiously around. They speak for a moment and then Whale is allowed inside.

 

She goes into the shack, Emma silent behind her, and takes in Ruby’s form. She’s red and scarred all over with ointment slathered all over her body and gauze wrapped on all her limbs. She hears Emma gasp a little and she narrows her eyes, taking in the marks. They look like rain marks but it didn’t rain yesterday night.

 

The girl on the bed groans and notices that they are in the shack with her. “What d’you want?” she slurs and Regina smiles innocently as she goes to sit at the chair next to the bed.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Another groan. “Like shit.” Then she looks at them suspiciously. “Why are you here really?”

 

“Ruby, I was worried about you,” she smiles, all teeth, with lies spewing out from behind the smile. “How did this happen? You were fine yesterday!”

 

“I…” Ruby looks like she’s about to say something until her eyes go wide and she looks spooked. Ruby’s jaw immediately shut and she shakes her head. “I was careless and burned myself.”

 

“Burn yourself?” She immediately latches onto that. “I didn’t realize we had blowtorches?” she tries to joke.

 

The scarred brunette groans again and turns her head away from them. “They don’t give it to us to use for the wall.” It’s not outright denial at the existence of blowtorches and Regina frowns. It feels like important information; however, she doesn’t know what to make of it. There are too many disjointed pieces that don’t fit and she’s still missing more than half of the puzzle.

 

“Well then I hope you rest well, Ruby, please feel better soon.”

 

She gets up and gestures Emma to follow her to their living area and the blonde trails behind with a blaze in her eyes. When they get inside their shack and make sure the door is closed, Emma explodes from confusion.

 

“What was all that about?” she hisses at Regina and she holds Emma by both sides of her arms to calm her down.

 

“There’s something odd going on here, at that warehouse.”

 

Emma frowns. “I get that, but I want to know what you’re thinking. You’re planning and scheming and as much as I love that great mind of yours, it’s a little scary sometimes when I don’t know what’s going on.”

 

She sighs and goes to sit down on the stone slabs meant as chairs. “Yesterday, when I went out to patrol with Ruby and Graham, we found a frozen monster.”

 

That catches Emma’s attention and she sits on the other chair. “Those things _freeze_?”

 

Regina smiles at the childlike wonder in Emma’s voice and continues on, “Yes, and they acted very odd when we saw it. The next day I went back to that same spot and the monster was gone but the bottom part of it, the part that was still stuck to the ground, was still there. The monster was hacked off. Ruby was also completely fine when we got back yesterday and it never rained. So how did she get burned?”

 

Emma wipes her face with her hand a couple of times as she thinks it over. “You think they’re keeping the monsters. And in that warehouse.” She says in more of a statement than a question and Regina wants to lean over and kiss the genius out of the woman.

 

“Somehow it makes sense. It also explains why they’re not afraid of the monsters.”

 

“Isn’t that because their walls have something that protects them from the rain?”

 

Regina rears back because she did not know that. “What?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma nods. “David told me that they have something that coats the walls to protect it from the rain.” They sit there in silence for a moment absorbing the new information before Emma’s blonde eyebrows fly up to her forehead. “Oh shit.”

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“What if they’ve got some lab thing going on in there to create the rain protection thing from actual rain monsters?”

 

Regina nods slightly; it sounds both far-fetched and likely at the same time, but something doesn’t add up. “But then why would they hide it? It sounds beneficial and I don’t think any sane person would not want to be protected from the rain.”

 

Emma shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think the only way we can find out is to break in there, Regina.”

 

Regina’s heart warms at the realization that Emma is willing to go to such lengths with her and she can’t help but grab Emma’s hand and pull her in for a kiss. She pours all her longing into it, all her feelings of gratefulness for the blonde who’s willing to stay, willing to throw away this _Haven_ , willing to give her the time to say the words, _but can’t, not yet_.

 

When she pulls back, Emma slowly blinks her eyes open. “What was that for?”

 

She smiles. “It was for you being you.” She stands up with Emma’s hand still in hers and she leads them to the bedroom. It’s more than likely going to be their last day here and the last time they’ll have a bed to themselves so they should make the best of it. “We never did get around to that sexathon I mentioned before.”

 

Emma smirks. “Yeah?” Her eyebrows waggled. “Scheming out infiltration plans make you wet?”

 

She laughs, because if there is one thing Emma is great at, it’s making their time together both fun and sexy at the same time. “Come here, my idiot.” The back of her knees hit the mattress and she lays down pulling the blonde on top of her as they kiss and touch until the sun comes back up.

 

* * *

 

The next morning as the horn sounds across the camp, they stay in bed and linger a lot longer than yesterday.

 

Emma’s spooning her from behind and they’re both naked as the day they were born with a few blankets protecting them from the chill. Regina can feel the warmth radiating from the body behind her and she wants to wake up like this every morning. She wants to always wake up this deliciously sore.

 

“We have to get up.” She whispers as they continue to lay there and Emma groans in dismay in her hair. She chuckles when she feels strong arms tighten around her waist and then moans when she feels kisses peppered down her shoulder. “Emma, we’re going to be late,” she protests weakly and the blonde playfully nibbles on her skin.

 

“Fine,” she hears the woman behind her gruff out as she rolls out of bed to find the clothes they tore off.

 

They’re both aware that today is the day they are going to investigate the warehouse, which is probably why they can’t keep their hands off each other as they hurriedly try to get dressed. They need to get to the camp center but they obviously have better plans.

 

They barely make it in time to line up with everyone else and wait for Mary Margaret to assign them their tasks. David gives them a strange look with his eyebrows slightly raised and Whale has the most lecherous expression on. She ignores them both in favour of wrangling with the blush that she can feel present on her face. Emma just looks smug beside her and she wants to kiss her some more.

 

Emma’s switched to patrol today and Regina worries her lip at the thought of being separated. “Relax, I’ll be fine, and we’ll meet up for dinner, okay?” Emma says. Regina’s vaguely reminded of their first day here and she can’t help but laugh at herself.

 

“Okay,” she acquiesces. “Stay safe.” She pecks Emma on the cheek and Emma’s face instantly blooms red as she sheepishly grins and salutes her before stepping out of the gates.

 

Regina’s back to reinforcing the walls again and she nearly hammers her own head from the dullness of the work. Ruby is still not back so she greets a few new faces that she doesn’t bother to learn the names of. She just wants the day to end so she can see Emma again.

 

She sees David and eyes him as he walks out of the warehouse, pale and shaken. She wonders what she’ll find in there. The matters of the warehouse seem to only be given to a select few and Mary Margaret is almost always there. She gathered that Mary Margaret is immensely biased and only people she’s met before the Flood tend to be the only people she allows in the warehouse, with the exception of David. But David is foolishly smitten and she thinks the pixie-haired woman uses that to her advantage.

 

Mary Margaret seems familiar with Jefferson and Red, and Regina already found out that Graham used to be her bodyguard. If Jefferson didn’t know Mary Margaret already, would he still even be at the Haven? Being as crazy as he is.

 

Night begins to fall and Emma hasn’t come back yet; she’s worried but she doesn’t know who she can talk to. She paces inside her living space until she’s upset at the four walls and has to go outside. Mary Margaret of all people catches her wandering around— _because of course she does_ —and she asks when the patrollers are coming back.

 

“I know you’re worried, but they’ll be fine, you should just go home and rest, Emma will be back before you know it.”

 

She practically hisses at the woman, “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do. If I want to worry about Emma then I will.” She stomps off to the gates and decides to wait there instead. The guards look at her oddly, but she brushes them off with glares and they turn to watch outside—what they’re supposed to be doing.

 

She starts pacing there as well, much to the annoyance of the people around her, but she needs to do something or her thoughts will drive her insane.

 

_What if she’s hurt? What if a monster attacked her? What if Graham attacked her? What if she’s dead, lying somewhere waiting for someone to find her and she’s stuck here instead?_

 

She’s ready to begin pulling her hair out by the time she hears a shout from outside the gates and she immediately runs to where there’s a hole she can look out from. She recognizes Emma’s form and practically demands the guards to open the doors to let her in.

 

“We need help!” she hears and her heart pounds as she imagines what state Emma must be in. When the doors open however, Emma is perfectly fine—if a little exhausted—but Graham is slung over her shoulder.

 

One of the guards runs for Whale and she runs up to the man, checking for a pulse. “What happened?” she rushes out and Emma just shakes her head.

 

“Honestly, I don’t know, he just suddenly fell to the floor and started convulsing.”

 

Whale jogs over and as soon as he tells the guards to carry Graham to his shack; Mary Margaret comes as well. “Will he live?” the woman asks and Whale hesitantly nods.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Emma asks incredulously. She looks lost and confused at what’s happening around her.

 

The brunette wrings her wrists for a moment before confessing, “Graham has a heart condition.”

 

“What?” Regina explodes. “And you let him out to patrol?” She can’t believe the callousness of this woman.

 

Mary Margaret’s eyes immediately narrows at the accusation and nearly growls at her. “This world is about survival of the fittest. If he doesn’t survive, it just means he wasn’t the fittest. His heart condition was a liability and if he couldn’t pull his own weight, there was no point in him being here.”

 

“I fucking can’t believe you.” Emma says before she can reply. “What sort of condescending piece of shit is that? I heard he used to be your bodyguard. Graham’s a good guy and you even knew him before, but you wouldn’t even bat an eyelash if he died right now? Fuck you.”

 

Emma stomps off and Regina has no choice but to follow as they head back to their own shack. Regina finds the blonde fuming as she lays on the bed on her side with her arms crossed. She sits down gingerly on the edge next to her and gently puts a hand on Emma’s arm.

 

“Emma.” She receives a grunt. “Emma, sweetie,” she tries again and gets silence instead. “You should get some dinner.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” is the stubborn reply and she wants to shake her and make her tell her what’s wrong. She is suddenly even more grateful for Emma’s patience with her. Obviously, she lacks the same patience but she wants to be supportive of Emma no matter what.

 

After she tries again and Emma still refuses to talk or move, she decides she’s going to give her some space and grab their dinner. That way Emma can have something to eat when she feels hungry later.

She comes back to Emma still in the same position she left her and and she sighs and sits back down on the bed in the same position as she was before. “Emma, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I won’t know.”

 

Finally the blonde just sighs. “It’s just—I don’t know.” Emma sits up, tears flowing down her cheeks, and starts fiddling with her fingers in her lap. “I get hardening your heart so you don’t get hurt, and I get that anyone could die the next day but, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t _care_ , right? You should always at least _mourn_ over the people you care about, _right_?”

 

“Oh Emma.” It dawns on her what this is all about and she goes to hug the blonde. “You never got to mourn for Neal did you?”

 

Emma chokes out a sob and doesn’t say anything but she doesn’t need to. Regina hugs her tighter when she feels the body she’s wrapped around start to shake. She slides a comforting hand up and down Emma’s back trying to soothe her with coos and soft whisperings as she lets Emma finally mourn for her friend.

 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles out after a few minutes of relentless sobbing. “Give me a moment and we can get ready to check out that building.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Emma, the building isn’t going anywhere, take your time.”

 

“No,” the woman says with determination, “ _no_ , we need to figure out what they’re doing in case it’s something bad so we can stop it. I don’t want to stay with these people any longer anyway.”

 

“So if we don’t find anything bad..?” She trails off.

 

Emma growls. “We should leave still.” But then her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, I mean, if you think that’s okay? I know it’s hard to find somewhere to stay and we could be potentially losing that safety.”

 

“Emma.” She brings a hand up and curls it around Emma’s strong jaw. “You know I would never consider staying if you didn’t want to stay.”

 

“Oh.” Emma blushes as she leans into the hand. “Thanks, I guess.” Regina shakes her head when she realizes how little Emma thinks of herself and she wants to spend her whole life rectifying that. Emma has done so much for her, and she wants to do the same.

 

“Are you feeling hungry? I got food.”

 

The blonde brightens up considerably. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty hungry now, thank you.” Emma leans over but hesitates at the last second. Regina rolls her eyes and pulls Emma in to complete the kiss.

 

“You’re allowed to kiss me whenever, no need to be afraid unless I tell you I’m not in the mood.”

 

“Oh.” Emma leans in again for another kiss and smiles against Regina’s lips.

 

They both get up to eat the food Regina brought back and watch as the light outside changes from grey to dark blue to black. “Are you ready?” Emma asks and she nods as they open their door slightly to peek outside.

 

It’s quiet; they never realized _how_ quiet it gets at night because the mornings are filled with such a racket every day. They’re at a bit of a disadvantage because they don’t have any flashlights. Maybe that’s the reason why no one at the Haven suspects anybody would do anything bad. They strip everyone of everything and make sure that no one kept the supplies. Anything they needed for the day would be provided for them and then they take it back.

 

It left the people living at the Haven with nothing in the end should they ever decide to leave. It’s genius, really, and Regina begrudgingly applauds Mary Margaret for the diabolical intelligence she seems to possess.

 

There aren’t a lot of people patrolling around, both due to the lack of people living at the Haven and the fact that it would be difficult to sneak around in the first place even without patrollers. She finds herself bumping into Emma multiple times since it’s so dark as they cling to each other by their hands.

 

A beam of light from a flashlight swerves around and nearly hits them and they feel around to quickly duck behind shacks and avoid being detected. She’s brought back to the time she first met Emma—it felt like ages ago—when she didn’t know anything about the woman, not even her name.

 

It’s such a jarring difference between then and now with their hands intertwined and their movements synchronous to each other.

 

It’s dark, but luckily not cloudy so the moon illuminates and highlights the warehouse like a beacon as they dodge all the patrollers and finally come upon the building. They can’t go through the front entrance—a guard stands at the front; he’s dozing off slightly but he will still notice if someone tries to pass him. So they circle the large building, searching for a back door or a window they can enter through without breaking anything.

 

They do find a back door without a guard and Regina huffs out in frustration as she jiggles the handle of the door only to find it locked from the other side. Emma pull her close and whispers, “stand guard for me,” in her ear and she watches as Emma’s blonde head—because that’s all she can see clearly—bobs over to the door and she pulls out a few pins from her shoe.

 

“Have you had those in your shoe this entire time?” she hisses out in surprise and Emma shushes her harshly.

 

Emma kneels in front of the door and with a dexterity Regina didn’t know Emma possessed, she works up the tumblers in the steel latch lock with the two pins. Emma looks beautiful; her hair is illuminated by the moonlight and her concentration makes her so charming that in any other situation she would’ve pulled the woman in for a kiss. She’s never been so glad someone used to be a thief before. She shakes her head and turns to watch their surroundings like she’s supposed to do. It would be highly unsightly if they were caught because she was so distracted by Emma.

 

They both hear a heartstopping _click_ of the lock unlocking and she scrambles back to open the door a crack. They don’t see anyone so they sneak in and close the door behind them so a guard won’t find it and alert everyone.

 

The inside is spacious and the roof almost completely gone, so she can see just as much as she could when she was outside the building. There are a lot of shelves with huge glass containers that reflect the moon but she can’t see what’s inside them.

 

They walk around in the dark as quietly as they can, having second thoughts because they can’t see anything. This excursion is beginning to feel like a fruitless endeavour. They both have their hands outstretched in front of them as they touch and feel anything that came within range and she has only tripped maybe once.

 

“Regina!” Emma whispers out in excitement as she tries to rush over. “Look!” Emma tries to lowly rumble out and suddenly there’s a bright light between them. She can’t believe their luck for finding a stray flashlight and they try to avoid flashing it everywhere in case they give their position away.

 

Emma rummages around some more in the cabinet where she found the compact flashlight and finds another one for her. So now that they’re both armed with light, they climb up the shelves where the glass containers are being held so they can finally _see_ and what they do see is what Regina had feared.

 

Because as soon as they get near the glass cases, they immediately see what’s contained inside when one of them jumps out at the glass towards them. She holds in her scream when it did, only stumbling back with Emma barely fast enough to catch her from falling off the steel platform.

 

Inside is a rain monster circling the square case. The glass is tall and manages to withstand the monster from dissolving it but the top of the case is open. She pulls Emma in until her mouth is right up against her ear and breathes out, “they’re keeping them alive whenever it rains.” And she points up at the open ceiling and Emma immediately understands.

 

Emma follows her example and presses her mouth against her ear as well. “But why?” She leans back and shakes her head, it’s something she hasn’t figured out yet but they need to look around some more.

 

The majority of the cases all contain the same blob slime-like monster, all of various sizes. She’s about ready to conclude that there’s nothing interesting in the cases until she walks past one and a wet thump hits the glass near where she was standing. She leaps sideways slightly, teetering precariously on the edge of the platform, and swings her light to look at the offending monster.

 

As soon as the light hit the glass however, she’s greeted with hundreds of eyes, all moving and blinking chaotically around the spherical body of this new monster variance she has never seen before. _Are those human eyes?_ It’s horrific and they stare her down as she tries to get away as soon as possible. Those things might actually be able to _see,_ which only gives these monsters even more of an advantage than they already had.

 

From afar she can see it slapping at the glass with tentacles that jut out all over it’s circular body. The skin is the same dirty brown-blue as the slime-like monsters and the texture of it is more similar to a condensed ball of water where its round body almost defies gravity with it’s constantly shifting, water-like skin.

 

And then there are the _eyes_ , she can’t get over them, they’re disconcerting. Did the monster take the eyeballs of all the humans it came across and did that somehow give it the ability to see? _Were they evolving?_ It’s horrific to even consider but she’s worried she might be right. She also wants to know how it managed to get a dead person’s eyeball to actually work; it must be surprisingly compatible with humans. It looks like it’s rare however—considering she’s only seen _one_ out of the sea of many in this entire warehouse—so chances of her encountering another one are hopefully low.

 

She wants to show Emma the monster but she’s too far and she suddenly hears talking echoing across the building. She immediately ducks behind one of the glass cases and turns off her light. She can feel herself panic as she tries to control her breathing; she doesn’t know where Emma is or if she is in any safe place, or even if Emma knows there are other people in the building.

 

She glances around the corner of the glass case—the monster inside losing interest immediately when she stops moving—and sees light shining out from a cracked-open door. The blinds over the window are suddenly pulled up and she can see what appears to be the inside of an office.

 

“Whale, you said Ruby would be better by now, why is she still bedridden?”

 

“Sorry, those things dug in and ate away her skin until they hit tissue, I don’t think she’s going to be up and walking anytime soon.”

 

“ _Well fix it_ ,” she hears Mary Margaret’s shrill voice echo across the warehouse. “With Ruby hurt and Graham having a heart attack today we don’t have enough people dealing with this.”

 

“Oh _oh,_ the wolf is down, the wolf is burned, next was the huntsman, his heart couldn’t be unconcerned. Will they survive, will they live? Like a tragic love story, oh god, oh universe, please forgive!”

 

“Shut _up_ , Jefferson,” the woman snaps and the crazed man whimpers out.

 

And then the building all at once blooms in light and she curses before flattening herself beside the glass case. She needs to get down because she can very clearly be seen from here. She can also see Emma on a different platform in the same position as her. Their eyes catch and they nod at each other to check their status.

 

She doesn’t need to worry about Emma; instead she focuses on herself and looks around for the best route to get to the bottom floor.

 

She can hear the monsters slamming against the glass wherever Mary Margaret walks as the woman carelessly lets her footsteps ring loud and clear against the pavement. “Belle, I need you to hurry up and figure out a way to make this more efficient, it’s far too slow and too dangerous. We’ve lost Ruby from an unfortunate accident and I do not want that to happen again.”

 

An accented voice that she recognizes as the neighbour that gave them blankets from before timidly replies, “Yes, I’m—I’m trying the best I can.”

 

She clambers down by shimmying down the steel poles supporting the platforms and she searches blindly with her foot to get some sort of hold.

 

“You need to _try harder_ , or whatever happened to your _precious Ruby_ will happen to someone else.”

 

She shakes her head as she hangs from the ledge, finally getting a foothold and gingerly trying to climb down. This woman is a tyrant and vaguely reminds her of her mother. Only her mother had a sort of quiet anger that threatened people purely from being in the same air as her. Mary Margaret may be able to frighten the others, but she’s nothing compared to the true terror Regina had to live through when she was younger.

 

“How is subject #112 today?”

 

Belle sputters right when Regina hits the ground, “He— it— it hasn’t been doing very well, quiet as usual but getting smaller. Do— do you think we should feed him human food?”

 

That gathers Regina’s attention: ‘ _him’?_ She looks around for Emma and a soft touch on her arm makes her spin around, her heart pounding until she realizes it’s just Emma. The blonde also mouth ‘him?’ at her and she shrugs.

 

“Don’t be _ridiculous_ ,” Mary Margaret snaps at the other woman immediately, “we are _not_ wasting our resources on a monster.” And then she mutters out clearly, “Let’s go see just how small it has gotten then.”

 

They follow on the ground as Mary Margaret, Belle and Jefferson climb the stairs up to the platforms. Belle winces every time one of the monsters leaps towards them but Jefferson skips along the platform with his fingers trailing along the glass like he’s walking through a field of flowers.

 

When the trio stop in front of one of the glass containers, Regina tries to crane her neck to see inside the glass but she can’t stick her head out far enough lest they see and the platform is wide enough that it blocks everything from view. Emma’s darting around trying to see as well but she’s having about the same luck.

 

Mary Margaret crosses her arms and demands, “Wake up!” at whatever is in the case and the woman sneers a moment later. “Have we tried giving it water?” She asks Belle without turning her head from the case.

 

“Yes ma’am, but it’s unable to absorb the water,” Belle says meekly, and then, “I really do think he needs to ea—”

 

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” The brunette gives a long suffering sigh and turns. “ _Whatever_ , it doesn’t really concern us if it lives or dies, it hasn’t given any good results anyway.” She snaps her fingers at Jefferson then, her interest on another glass case this time. “Start the operation.”

 

Jefferson nods and runs to one of the storage cabinets, coming back with a ladder and holding up what Regina realizes is a blowtorch. Suddenly Ruby’s lack of denial of a blowtorch makes a lot more sense. He then leans the ladder against the glass and climbs until he can lean over and reach inside the case.

 

“What the hell are they do—” Emma begins to whisper until Jefferson maniacally uses the blowtorch and floods the entire case in fire. There’s a high pitched squealing noise as whatever is inside is engulfed in fire. This goes on for about 20 minutes and Emma and Regina just stand there with their hands over their ears as the squealing never stops. It sounds a bit like a pig in a slaughter, it’s unbearable.

 

When the sound finally stops, Jefferson turns off the blowtorch. Belle hands him a pole-like tool that extends out and he uses it to grab at the bottom of the case which is too far for him to reach normally. He pulls back his arm to reveal a brown and black _husk_ of the thing she recognizes as one of the normal monsters.

 

“Perfect, I need that spread over the walls on sector B3.” Jefferson salutes and cleans everything up. Carrying the husk with the grabber, he goes back down to the bottom floor and into one of the offices.

“It still takes too long, Belle.” Mary Margaret grinds out when Jefferson is out of sight and Belle cowers a little from the tone.

 

“I increased the flame output of the blowtorch—”

 

“I don’t care _what_ you did, I just need results, and you’re not giving them to me.”

 

It’s silent for a moment before Belle lets out a shaky, “Is that why you hurt Ruby?”

 

Mary Margaret sniffs and starts to walk away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You know _perfectly_ well what I’m talking about!” the Australian—because she _finally_ pinpointed the accent—screams at the other woman. “ _You_ made her fall into the cage while she was doing what _you_ asked her to.”

 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, Ruby didn’t put her ladder on the floor properly and it fell, making her fall in. I had nothing to do with it. Now do what I asked you to do.”

 

Belle huffs and tramples away, making an exceptional amount of noise and vibration which causes all the monsters to rise and hit the glass. Mary Margaret watches her go before muttering something under her breath and leaving as well.

 

Regina breathes out a sigh; that was tense for all sorts of reasons. She looks over to Emma and the blonde points up, curious as to who they were talking to. They jump onto one of the horizontal steel poles that supports the platforms and swing and climb and pull themselves up. They have to stay quiet because Jefferson is still in the building and the lights are all still on.

 

Getting to the middle case is like navigating through a maze of other glass cases. They have to figure out where the glass case is by finding their hiding spot and judging the distance from there.

 

Finally, they find it. And she holds in her gasp.

 

They don’t even need to walk close and she can already see the difference from the other cages.

 

There’s a boy, huddled in the middle of the case with nothing but shorts on with his scraggly hair half covering his face. “Oh my god, Emma!” she hisses out in panic and their hands find each other. She needs Emma to ground her as they slowly sneak over to the boy’s cage.

 

Their footsteps must have spooked him however because his head shoots up and he instantly backs away into the farthest corner from them. She can’t believe it; she can’t believe that the people here had put a small _boy_ inside this cage, not feeding him at all and possibly running _experiments_ on him. It makes her want to throw up.

 

She tugs on the hand in hers and she hears Emma mutter, “I know,” beside her. They need to get the boy out. “Talk to him,” Emma grunts out as she goes to the same supply closet they saw Jefferson put the ladder in and Regina goes over and kneels against the glass.

 

“Hey,” she softly coos, “we’re not here to hurt you.”

 

The boy’s hair completely covers his eyes but evidently he can still see because his head is up and he’s looking in Regina’s direction with his head craning to follow Emma every once in awhile. He looks so little and Regina almost wants to cry when she thinks she can count each of his ribs.

 

Emma comes back with the ladder and she settles it against the case. She reaches over the lip of the cage and reaches out a hand but won’t be able to reach the boy even if he stands up. He stares up at the hand in wonder as Regina can see he’s trying to understand what is happening. “How are you going to reach him?” Regina whispers up at Emma and Emma stares at the boy really hard before making a decision.

 

Her blonde idiot lifts herself up and hops over the cage, dropping down into it. Regina nearly hits the glass out of shock, surprise and anger. _Why does she always risk herself like this?_ Emma gestures for her to climb the ladder and she acquiesces while Emma turns to the boy that’s huddled even further in the corner. He’s trying to look even smaller than he already is. There’s a foreign person in his small cage and he doesn’t know her intention.

 

Emma crouches down and reaches out a hand like she’s trying to coax a small animal. “C’mon, I won’t hurt you. We’re trying to get you out.” The boy lifts his head a little bit and looks around as if he’s trying to think of any other option. Eventually, he slowly crawls over and Regina believes he can understand their words.

 

Emma smiles and gently carries the boy up—much to his shock—and lifts him up to where Regina can reach over and pull him out. There’s no issue because the boy is in such shock that he just froze like a statue, and the lack of squirming actually helps making carrying him easier.

 

Regina practically gets up on her toes and more than half of her body is hanging over the glass cage and she’s afraid she will fall in herself. But when the boy is safely in her arms and she straightens up to carry him down the ladder, she realizes just how tiny the boy is. He’s shivering and cold and Regina cradles his head and strokes his hair.

 

She looks at Emma who’s still stuck in the cage and tries to think of a way to get her out. There’s no way she will ever leave the blonde in there. They stand there, staring at each other, panic slowly setting in emerald eyes when Emma realizes she might actually be stuck in there and Regina refuses, she _refuses_ to be in this world without Emma by her side.

 

But of course, a bad situation turns worse, and the door to the warehouse slams open. “Hey!” a man calls out, “you’re not supposed to be in here!” She curses—their cover is completely blown.

 

“Fuck it!” Emma yells. “Break the glass!” And she runs and sets the boy far away as she goes to fetch the ladder, which she slams sideways against the glass. Thankfully, the glass breaks, as well as stops her swing so she doesn’t hit Emma. The whole place bursts alive with activity.

 

The guard runs out and sounds an alarm that sounds not unlike the horn in the morning. “What do we do?” she asks, reaching for the boy. He instantly jumps into her arms, knowing that it’s the safest place at the moment.

 

Emma paces for a moment, then stops and stares at Regina. “Do you trust me?” Emma waits for Regina to nod—because Regina trusts Emma with her life and vice versa—then runs into  one of the glass cases, slamming her shoulder against it until it starts to move.

 

The door to the warehouse flies open again and this time a group of guards streams in. She quickly goes over to where Emma is and also starts to push the glass with her back, the boy still in her arms. Half the guards run to the stairs and the other half starts to climb the horizontal poles.

 

Right before the guards can get on the platform, she feels the cage tip over the edge and Emma pulls her back so she doesn’t fall with it. They watch as the glass falls and shatters, the sound exploding and echoing throughout the wide open space. The monster that’s contained inside emerges from the pieces, the broken glass around it not fazing it at all as it begins to prowl on the floor.

 

No one moves.

 

The guards know perfectly well that moving will attract the monster so it becomes a stare down, both sides refusing to move first and attract the ire of the monster on the ground. Everything is silent in the warehouse except for the sound of the horn blaring off in the background.

 

They stand there and stare at each other for who knows how long.

 

There are two ways this can end well for them: One, the guards move and the monster gets them, or two, their backup opens the door, which will also attract the monsters. She’s all too ready to wait them out until she notices that they’re slowly inching up the stairs. _Dammit._ Waiting them out isn’t going to work.

 

In front of her are the remains of the glass cage that held the boy. She subtly nudges Emma to the glass and the blonde stares at it for a moment until she figures out what Regina wants her to do. She bends forward and picks up a piece, reaching her arm back as far as she can and then flinging it on the ground right where the guards are.

 

The monster _instantly_ reacts, rearing its snout in the direction of the sound and snaking its way towards it.

 

At first the guards try to not move but the sight of the monster leaping towards them incites panic and they scramble out of the way, which only attracts the monster more.

 

“That one too.” Emma points to another case and they quickly push it over the edge of the platform like the first one. The guards are already running around so it doesn’t take long for the second monster to join in. “More.” Emma runs over to another one but Regina quickly reaches out to her.

 

“Not that one!” she screams when Emma reaches the round one. The flaps that act as eyelids flare open and hundreds of eyes suddenly stare Emma down.

 

“Holy shit,” the blonde breathes, “that’s a lot of balls.”

 

“Really?” she yells, entirely unimpressed. “ _Not_ the time for inappropriate jokes, Miss Swan.” Emma shrugs and reaches for a different cage. And they continue doing this, freeing more than necessary, but the panic and the chaos makes her head hurt and she’s seeing everything through a fog. The boy is standing somewhere safe because Regina didn’t want to accidentally crush or squeeze him too hard while pushing the cages.

 

Most of the guards are dead and somewhere halfway through pushing the fourth or fifth cage, backup slams the doors open and the monsters slither after them as well. All of the freed monsters are outside wreaking havoc on the Haven now and Regina shakes her head. They can hear screams, panicked gunshots and yelling from outside and the gravity of their actions is finally hitting her.

 

“What have we done?”

 

Emma frowns as she goes to lift the boy into her arms. “We probably didn’t do the right thing.” Regina whips her head over to the blonde and stares at her incredulously—she thought she was going to get a hope speech. “But we did what we could,” Emma continues sadly, then whispers to Regina as she cradles the boy’s head, “He’s so small.”

 

She nods in agreement and reaches out to tug Emma’s arm. “We should go while they’re preoccupied.” They both gingerly climb down the stairs to the bottom floor, hoping there aren’t any monsters still lingering, then head out the front gates. The double doors are wide open and they assume half the people probably escaped outside. They breathe a little in relief at the thought that they at least didn’t kill off everyone in the Haven.

 

They run out, hoping they don’t meet any of the monsters or people on the way to the car. The boy squirms a bit and both Emma and Regina’s arms are a little sore from carrying him, so they let him follow along on unsteady legs and they run at a slower pace just so he can keep up.

 

They support him when he stumbles on wobbly legs—they’re unstable and he’s not used to using them for such a long period of time—but they patiently help him through it.

 

After running quite a distance, they finally spot the building they hid the car in and sprint up to it, lifting up the boy so that they can get there faster. The boy has gotten rather comfortable with being carried, so he opens his arms and welcomes it as Regina scoops him up and puts his head over her shoulder like a baby.

 

There’s a monster frozen at the entrance of the building and she’s surprised it didn’t attract anyone from the Haven. Then again, the patrollers never went far—just around the perimeter of the camp—so it makes sense that no one came this way. They ignore it because it isn’t going to do them any harm at the moment.

 

They’re ecstatic when they see that the car is still in the same place and is fully intact since they left it. It’s covered with tarp and debris inside the rundown building so they start digging it out. They manage to clear all the debris and are just about to pull off the tarp when they hear heaving breaths behind them.

 

Regina turns her head to see Mary Margaret there, red-faced and angry and completely out of breath.

 

“ _You!_ ” the woman bellows and Regina sees the boy instantly recoil from the tone. “You destroyed _everything_!”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and sneers. “Oh please, given time you would’ve destroyed it yourself.”

 

“I had a _system_.” Mary Margaret stalks over and screams, “Everything was the way it was _supposed to be_!”

 

The woman is about to get in her face but Emma walks forward and cuts her off. “Except _you_ didn’t care that Graham got hurt and _you_ were the one that hurt Ruby. You really think the people there followed you because they liked you? Mary Margaret, they all _feared_ you!”

 

“And _so what?_ ” the disheveled pixie-haired woman spits at Emma. “ _Nothing_ would’ve gotten done if I didn’t demand attention! _Oh poor little Mary Margaret, so weak and quiet and spoiled by daddy’s riches,_ no one would have listened to me if not for fear!”

 

She shakes her head from behind the blonde; it’s something she’s heard multiple times before. Mary Margaret is at the cusp of what her mother had preached to her all throughout her life.

 

 _Love is weak, fear is power_.

 

And she used to think it was true until she met Emma. “We don’t have time to hear you whine about your losses, you spoiled brat, we’re going to leave, and you’re going to let us.”

 

Mary Margaret growls and points at the little boy that had ran over to Regina and hid himself behind her. “Not without _that_.”

 

“What?” Emma squawks out. “You can’t be serious, you were about to let him die!”

 

“That was before I lost all the monsters the both of you freed. Now give me that thing and I’ll let the two of you go.”

 

She wraps her arms around the boy, refusing with that action alone as Emma pushes the woman back and away from them. “You can’t even call him a _boy_ , what makes you think we’re gonna leave him with you?”

 

“‘ _Him_ ’? That thing is a monster and you’d be doing yourselves a favour by giving that thing to me instead.”

 

“ _You’re the monster,_ ” Emma growls out menacingly and advances towards the woman who steps back a bit until they’re near the entrance of the building. “There’s no way you’re getting that kid, woman, _over my dead body._ ”

 

“Well… ” Mary Margaret’s eyes sparkle as she whips out a gun. “That can be arranged.”

 

“Emma!” Regina screams. She automatically steps towards the blonde to somehow protect her and she feels the boy in her arms tense.

 

“Fuck.” Instead of running away, Emma dives forward to tackle Mary Margaret down as they struggled back in forth for possession of the gun.

 

It’s a blur of black and yellow as they grab and punch each other. Regina sees Emma’s blonde head snap to the side when she’s punched and Emma rolls them until she pinned the brunette onto the ground, rearing back an arm to throw a retaliating blow. It starts to rain as well so their screams are lost under the loud sound of the sirens echoing throughout the city.

 

The fighting migrates away from the entrance of the building, away from the rain, and Emma and Mary Margaret push and pull the gun between them. Emma pulls a hand back again and punches the other woman square in the jaw and the gun gets thrown in the scuffle. It slides far away from them, and near Regina. She picks up the gun and aims it at the two, hammer cocked back but afraid to shoot in case she accidentally shoots Emma instead.

 

At this rate, even if Emma wins the fist fight, she won’t come out unscathed.

 

Mary Margaret of course then pulls a knife out of her boot and attempts to stab down on Emma’s head before Emma quickly brings up a pale hand to grab at the wrist. Emma is strong but she’s at a disadvantage since she’s pinned on the ground with Mary Margaret thrusting the knife downward and it’s the perfect time to shoot but Regina finds that she can’t.

 

Her hand is shaking. She thinks of the possibilities of accidentally hitting Emma, she thinks of the possibilities of not shooting and the knife hitting Emma anyway, and then she thinks about personally taking someone’s life. She doesn’t know if she can do it.

 

Emma’s still struggling and Regina lifts the gun and tries to line up Mary Margaret with the reticle. It’s ironic that she’s using the gun knowledge she learned at the Haven to kill their leader.

 

She shoots, but the recoil shocks her and the shot aims far too high.

 

It gathers Mary Margaret’s attention though and she turns around and glares at Regina. Emma takes the chance to grab the knife and fling it somewhere and Regina’s raising the gun again.

 

A growl breaks the tense air and catches everyone’s attention. It’s low and rumbly and it’s something they all recognize.

 

They turn their heads and look to the entrance of the building. The boy is no longer standing beside Regina but is instead standing outside under the rain, his hair matted together and falling completely over his face as he stands there unscathed from the rain. Beside him is the monster that was originally frozen at the entrance; the boy had pushed the monster under the rain to defrost it.

 

“See!” Mary Margaret screams, immediately attracting everyone’s attention and Regina nearly hisses at the woman to shut up. Mary Margaret instead continues, “That’s a monster!” she enthusiastically points at the boy and the blob of rain beside the boy swings its giant maw over to them. Her heart nearly stops as she watches the monster rear back and leaps toward Emma and Mary Margaret at high speed.

 

“Shit!” Emma kicks and flings the woman off her, pushing Mary Margaret into the open jaws of the monster. The woman screams in pain and terror and flails her arms while the monster devours her alive.

 

She runs over to help Emma up and she brings them over to the car. “Come!” She gestures for the boy to follow and the small boy scurries over to get into the car as well.

 

It takes a few false starts—the exhaust is cold and not used to being used so suddenly—and it starts to attract attention. “C’mon, c’mon,” Emma prays beside her as she tries turning the keys again. The engine finally sputters and starts and the rumbling definitely grabs the monster’s attention, causing her to slam her foot on the pedal, zooming off and away and out of the building.

 

Leaving the remains of Mary Margaret and the destroyed Haven behind them.

 


	9. Parents

They drive off in silence, not sure where they are going to go now. Before, they at least had a destination but now they’re lost in this world. Humans need goals, she finds, they need something to focus on so that they can do everything to strive for that goal.

 

The boy is sitting in the back, clinging to one of the many blankets they stuffed in the backseat and Regina decides they should at least get him some clothes. They are not fully out of Portland, the city being big, but they should be far enough to avoid any of the escaped survivors from the Haven when they find a three-story mall.

 

It’s not as well kept as the last mall they were in but there are still some clothes they can take. They can see the remains of chaos where people had fled and the marks of monsters ripping and burning down walls to get to them.

 

A lot of the children’s clothing stores were on the bottom floor unfortunately, probably to make it more easily accessible for parents with impatient children, and the Flood had destroyed most of the stores on the bottom floor. The upper floors didn’t exactly have a huge selection that they can choose from, but the boy is thankfully not particularly choosy or fussy and seems to pick clothes based more off of texture than style.

 

The boy’s stomach rumbles and she remembers how he must not have been fed since he was captured. “Are you hungry?” She smiles at the boy as he stares at her in confusion. He is very quiet; she’s never encountered a child that didn’t whine or complain about not getting something they wanted and it perplexes her.

 

Emma actually tries to keep her interactions with the boy minimal, choosing more to stand on the side. She asked once, _“Do you hate children?”_ and the blonde shook her head fast.

 

“I just… I don’t know how to deal with them…” she said, and it’s adorable because Emma is _afraid_ of making the child hate her, claiming she always screws things up, and _the less interactions we have, the less likely that’s going to happen, Regina!_

 

They find a nice spot to settle down for a moment and heat up a few cans of food after grabbing the boy some clothes. Their supplies are dwindling faster than they can replenish now and it’s alarming. They find rather quickly that the boy does not speak a word, barely makes a sound, and she wonders if she should be more worried. He also doesn’t have a name and she doesn’t know if they should carelessly name him something.

 

“We should find his parents, Emma. If they’re alive, they’ll be worried sick.” Emma’s skeptical on the chances of the parents being alive but she nods and they set off with a new destination in mind once again.

 

They drive up a little further north to Freeport because even though they know what they are looking for, they aren’t too sure what to look for in particular. Some clue perhaps; maybe the universe can give another sign? Their sign instead comes in the form of the little boy pointing out at the ocean in excitement as they drive across a bridge and Emma decides they should check out the beach.

 

The boy makes nonverbal sounds of excitement, squealing as he flails around in the water. The both of them are perfectly content to just watch him from the beach, making sure he doesn’t get too far in and drown. This was a bad idea; she can feel herself getting attached to the child.

 

“Did you ever want kids?” Emma asks as they stand there, barefoot in the sand with the chilly air making them both sniffle, but they both stubbornly continue to stand there, content to let the boy stay as long as he’s happy to play.

 

“Yes.” Her voice is so quiet it barely carries in the wind, but Emma hears it loud and clear anyway. Emma doesn’t say anything, thinking over how she should tread because she can tell that it’s a sensitive topic for Regina.

 

“I think you would have made a great mom.” And she can hear the wistfulness of an orphan that wished on starry nights for a mother that loved her.

 

“Maybe.” She smiles, and then her voice breaks as she says, “I couldn’t imagine bringing a child into such an abusive environment however.”

 

“That’s why you would have made a great mom.”

 

And because Emma tends to escape after they’ve had a hard conversation, she leans over and presses a kiss against Regina’s hair before wrangling to pick the boy up because it is way too cold and staying out there any longer will just give him hypothermia. Especially when he is so small too. Regina smiles at the scene of Emma picking up the boy and caring for him.

 

Emma might not know it, but she would have been a great mother as well.

 

They find a place to stay using the same methods they employed back before they stayed in the Haven, finding a safe spot they can fit the car in and throwing the tarp over while sleeping there. They’ve padded the back enough that two people can at least sleep in the back seat, but with the added child in the mix, they don’t quite know where to position themselves.

 

The boy is still a little anxious about touch; though he does seek attention often, he doesn’t like being spooked or grabbed suddenly. Regina knows the signs of abuse when she sees them and for just this one time, she will allow herself to be happy over the death of someone like Mary Margaret. That woman deserves all that she got and more.

 

They decide to let the boy choose; he seems to understand them at times, his listening comprehension not as bad as they feared, and he picks Regina. They don’t want to leave him in the front seat and he doesn’t seem to want to be left alone up there either so Emma has to be the one to sleep in the passenger seat tonight.

 

Regina scoots back until she hits the end of the seat to give the boy plenty of space. The little boy sits there, twisting and turning his head as he contemplates the lesser of two evils. It seems he doesn’t like to be left alone but he also has the dilemma of having to trust people that he literally just met.

 

Eventually he decides and curls up against Regina because they’ve been so nice to him, which in turn nearly gives her a panic attack. She doesn’t know how to navigate around a child, much less care for one, but she can’t help but curl around his small frame like a mother bear. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but Emma looks back at her with a soft smile and Regina gives a nervous smile back. She hopes the boy likes them; she doesn’t want him to feel scared anymore.

 

She wraps a blanket around them and says her good nights and the boy in her arms falls asleep surprisingly quick. Children are resilient apparently.

 

The next morning, Emma goes outside to take the tarp off and the boy enthusiastically jumps out of the car and tries to help by copying her movements. It is absolutely adorable, and Emma asking, “You wanna help, kid?” with a beaming smile, makes Regina’s heart pang as she thinks about how much she wants this to be her family.

 

The child must have somehow imprinted on them like a little duckling, because he starts to copy whatever they do. She notices when she’s spooning food into her mouth that the boy in front of her has started to copy and mirror what she’s doing. And because she’s using her right hand, she sees him use his shaky left hand, completely unfamiliar with the action. She hides her smile and subtly switches the spoon to her left. The next time he looks up to check he has everything correct, he quickly uses his right hand to correct the mistake. The look of confusion crossing the boy’s face right before he switched nearly makes her cry in happiness.

 

They spend a few days driving around the coast of Freeport. After doing some calculations, the boy couldn’t have traveled far from home before he was captured and he seems so enamoured with the ocean that on a gut feeling, they think his parents must be somewhere along the coast.

 

It rains one day and the boy excitedly runs outside, standing there with his head tilted up and his arms wide open, welcoming the toxic rain pelting his skin. He’s immune, she realizes. She had a suspicion during that fight with Mary Margaret but this only reconfirms it. He stands there, absorbing the rain, looking so at peace and happy that despite her previous reservations, she allows him to be out there as long as he wants. Emma states that he looks a little healthier, and from what she gathered from the conversation between Mary Margaret and Belle, this might be his way of nourishment as well.

 

He stands there until the pressure from the rain is too much. When it monsoons, it isn’t just the rain that hurts—it’s the heaviness of the rain that makes her feel like she’s drowning. So she can understand the boy’s reluctance to stay outside.

 

It doesn’t always come down as rain however; it’s cold and winter and occasionally the rain comes down as hail. They have to hurriedly pull him back then, the shards of ice falling like knives as they cut through objects and break through glass. She has never missed the gentle white gliding of snow as much as she does now.

 

The winter also made the roads slick with ice.

 

Emma’s playing soft music as they drive along the coast, still searching for any clues. Regina points to a few places they haven’t been in yet and Emma nods; Regina then turns her head around from the passenger's seat and pokes at the boy. He’s getting the hang of grinning—she can thank Emma for that—and she laughs as he squeals and bats her hand away.

 

She hears Emma yell out suddenly and she quickly turns her head back and sits with her back right up against her seat. The car swerves and veers off the road and slams right into the guardrail, everything happening so fast she can’t process the situation.

 

When the car stops, she hears the hissing from the engine and feels the throbbing in her head.

 

She isn’t unconscious, and thankfully neither are the other two passengers. She takes stock of everything around her and is promptly met with the reason _why_ they crashed. She sees, very clearly, an octopus-like monster slapping its water-like tentacles against the windshield. Its eyes—all one hundred of them—blinks and slinks around its body as it tries to focus on all three of them at once. They need to get out and go because who knows how many monsters were attracted to the sound of their crash. But she can _feel_ that their movements are being watched; every time she moves her hand to open the door, half of the eyeballs swerve and stare at that hand which makes leaving _very_ difficult.

 

“We have to distract it.” Emma grits out and she whips her head to look at the blonde who’s glaring at the monster in front of them. Emma has a blossoming bruise on the side of her head and she’s holding it like somehow it will make the pain go away. Normally, she would say that having someone distract the monsters is a foolish idea, but she’s suffering from brain damage herself.

 

“What?”

 

“Get out and run, on my signal.”

 

 _This idiot_. “What, _no_ —”

 

“Okay, go!” A string of curses flies out of Regina’s mouth as soon as she sees Emma pull the handle of the door and scrambles out. All of the eyes turn to face the blonde for a moment before rearing back to leap off the car. She watches as it slowly slaps around and move inefficiently on stringy tentacles. Emma points behind the monster and yells, “The fuck are you waiting for? Go!”

 

She bolts out of the car and quickly opens the back door; the boy is confused and still sitting there but jumps out of the car when the door opens. She picks the boy up and starts running away from the monster. The monster is thankfully slow, so Emma runs in circles around it before doubling back and catching up with Regina.

The both of them run without a destination in mind. They just need somewhere to stay, somewhere they can lose the monster behind them.

 

Just half out of view in front of them is an immaculate house that looks untouched by the world around it. Before the Flood it would have blended right in and she never would have noticed it, but at the moment it sticks out like a sore thumb.

 

“There!” She breathes out on an icy exhale and Emma looks to where she’s gesturing and nods. Putting power into their legs, they use every bit of their energy to sprint over to the house. She can feel the boy in her arms popping his head up and craning his neck back to see the house they are getting close to but as soon as he sees it he buries his head back in her shoulder and starts making whimpering noises.

 

It’s odd, she has not heard the child make much noise aside from the excited squealing every time they went to the beach, and the whimpers sounded terrified. She begins to have a bad feeling about it, but there aren’t any other alternatives. When they get to the house, Emma grabs the door handle and throws it open. They both stumble in and Regina quickly closes it, locking the monster outside. She can feel and hear the thumping from the monster hitting the door but a few agonizing minutes later, the sound stops and they finally breathe.

 

They may as well look around, if they’re going to be stuck in this house for awhile.

 

The house looks as immaculate on the inside as it did on the outside and she finds it a little troubling that she’s wary of a clean house, so used to the sight of broken furniture and debris she doesn’t know what to make of a perfectly intact first floor. The entire place is lit up with lights, so strong and fluorescent she thinks the roof must be just a giant solar panel.

 

As usual, Emma goes to the kitchen to search for food while she goes up the stairs to look at the condition of the bedrooms. She was going to drop the boy off to wait with Emma but he was clinging onto her shirt hard enough she was afraid it would tear so she’s carrying the boy up as he shivers and shakes in her arms.

 

She can’t tell what’s wrong with him and it’s concerning her. He hasn’t exhibited this strong of a reaction before but each step makes him whimper out in fear. She rubs his back soothingly and whisper hushes and coos to calm him down and she thinks it’s working. He begins to quiet down when she gets to the clean bedroom.

 

It looks like a couple stayed here; there’s a master bedroom and a study and the bedroom has a nice, soft, king-sized bed. She sits on it and it bounces subtly. The blankets are soft and smooth and she can’t help but rub her hands all over it. She’s so used to scratchy blankets and staticky microfiber comforters that the soft fabric actually feels foreign to her.

 

She decides to set the boy down on the blanket. “Look! It’s so soft!” she coos at him as she takes his hand and runs it along the blankets. He’s a small boy with a haunted look in his eyes but his eyes glimmer a bit as he touches the fabric and pressed down on it. The blanket surrounds his hand like a cloud and he goes to lie down on it. Regina thinks the boy might be 5 or 6 given his stature. He certainly looks like an excitable young boy when he’s rolling around on the blankets.

 

She catches Emma leaning against the doorframe smiling at them and she reaches out with a hand, asking her to come to her side. Emma grins and grabs her hand to press a kiss on her palm and she can’t help but blush at the blatant display of affection.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

They both smile until the boy makes a low whine to get their attention and they turn their head to see that he’s gesturing for them all to roll on the bed. Emma laughs and jumps on the bed because she’s actually _twelve_ and she pulls Regina until she’s bouncing on the bed as well. Emma grabs the boy and hugs him to herself and he looks so happy that she finds herself smiling, _smiling_ until the muscles in her cheeks hurt because she can’t smile anymore.

 

It hurts, somewhere deep in her heart, but it hurts in a way that she wants the pain because she _wants this_. She thought life with Emma would be it for her, but Emma _and_ this lovable boy whom she wants to nurture and love will make her life _complete_.

 

They lightly tussle until the boy falls asleep, laying there comfortably on top of the blankets, spread out in the middle of the bed, and they quietly chuckle at his light snoring. Regina reaches over and runs her hand through his hair and a burst of affection flows from her heart, spreading warmth and happiness to her veins and making it so she wants to cry. Emma wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss against the back of her head and she can feel that the blonde understands what she’s feeling because _she feels it too_.

 

Emma tugs her downstairs after a moment and when they’re outside the bedroom she feels her emotions overwhelming her and she grips Emma at her arms and pulls her in to kiss her, to feel her, to have her close. And she feels Emma respond enthusiastically, drinking her in like she misses her lips even though it’s only been a day since they got time to themselves.

 

Maybe she did, and maybe Regina missed Emma’s lips as well.

 

She feels hands on her waist and they slowly drift up her shirt so she grabs the hands and pushes away slightly, laughing out, “Wait, wait.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” Emma deflates and gives her the saddest puppy-dog eyes and she bumps her nose against hers.

 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just, a child is right there.” She points to the right; they barely left the bedroom and can directly see the boy from here. “And that same child has also taken the only bed available.”

 

“Oh!” And suddenly the blonde is bright again. “We can always go downstairs, there are some nice counters in the kitchen.” She waggles her eyebrows at her and Regina can only scoff. “Okay, fine, let’s go search around for some rooms with surfaces I can put you on,” Emma compromises.

 

Before she can even protest, she’s tugged down the stairs and into the back corners of the house. The place is warm and spacious and clean, giving her the illusion that everything is fine, everything is like before the Flood. She presses Emma against walls and imagines what it would be like if this was her house—no husband, just her—and she invited the blonde inside after a date. She feels like a teenager, sneaking off to find somewhere to ‘make out’. Or newlyweds, finally having some private time for themselves while their son is asleep.

 

There were so many ways this could have been but none of them are.

 

They fight for dominance, throwing each other against the walls and pressing incessant kisses against the other’s lips until Emma pins her and suddenly stops. “What’s this?” She lifts up her right hand and Regina turns her head.

 

She presses on the spot and it moves and shifts. There’s some sort of hidden panel there on the wall and she fully turns around to have a better look at it. Pulling at the sides, she finds that she has to lift it up. Underneath it, is a keypad and Emma reaches over from behind her and presses a ‘zero’ and a ‘clear’; it makes a subtle beep.

 

She glances over her shoulder to Emma and they share a look of confusion. _Why is there a keypad here?_ She drops the cover and starts to examine the wall to the left of it. Keypads are usually associated with doors so she feels around for any seams. She can’t feel anything actually, and either the door is really well made into the wall or this keypad doesn’t connect to anything. She highly doubts the latter.

 

“C’mon,” Emma says when she tries the keypad again, pressing a random string of numbers but too wary to press the ‘submit’. “Let’s get some sleep first, we can deal with this tomorrow morning.”

 

“There’s something wrong here, Emma.” She frowns at the wall and turns when she feels a light touch against her arm. “This house is too _perfect_.” And she has seen her fair share of seemingly immaculate houses. Most, if not all, had skeletons in the closet and the body count only seems to multiply the more you unearth. Whoever this couple was, they must have been rich to build such a place and with superior technology that can withstand even the rain.

 

There’s a possibility that this might even be a government-sponsored building.

 

Emma hums, “Yeah, I get that,” because Emma is also slightly jaded like her, not trusting the clean and the pristine and she presses a kiss on the blonde’s cheek. They will deal with this tomorrow, so she pulls Emma upstairs so they can sleep. “Aw man, the mood got ruined,” Emma complains quietly in her ear and she chuckles low and soft.

 

When they get back into the bedroom, the boy is still laying there, completely oblivious to the world around him and she smiles and smiles and it splits her face until she can’t smile anymore. She can put aside all her worries as long as she can be with these two. She feels Emma wrap around her from behind and she cranes her head to pepper inaccurate kisses along the blonde’s nose and cheek and mouth and they laugh quietly.

 

They decide sleep is in order and they clamber onto the bed, surrounding the boy, protecting him, and the boy shifts and snuggles into them as they get closer. She looks down at the child with a look of adoring affection and looks up to see the look reflected in Emma’s eyes. Emma leans over slowly enough that her eyes flutter closed and they kiss in a way that makes her feel cherished.

 

“Good night, Regina,” Emma whispers to her when they part.

 

She smiles. “Good night, Emma.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning when she wakes up, it’s to Emma curled around her with the boy still sleeping between them. There are no birds that chirp in the mornings and she doesn’t hear cars or people outside the house, but she feels the beginnings of peace blooming in her soul. She presses a light kiss on the boy’s head and Emma’s forehead and rolls off the bed slowly. She slowly descends the stairs, marveling at how well-built they are when they don’t creak.

 

When she moves into the kitchen, it’s sparkling and bright. The sun is shining inside it; the room built with glass windows high on the walls surrounding it, letting the sun brighten the kitchen until it reflects off of every surface. In theory, it sounds obnoxious, and in her past life— _because she calls it a past life now_ —she would have scoffed and complained about how overly bright it sounded, but she’s here now, staring at everything in wonder.

 

The pantry door is half the size of a regular door and it sits on the wall like the wall was gouged in to make room for the pantry. It’s situated right next to the refrigerator so all the food sources are in the same area and she marvels at how meticulously thought out everything was here. When she opens the pantry, she finds it well stocked with foods that last for decades.

 

Her first thought is to grab it all and stuff it into their car, but then she remembers they no longer have a car now and she briefly wonders if there’s a garage in this house. There must be; the house is lavish and fully furnished and she knows the rich, knows how they think. There must be at least one car, if not _eight_.

 

She finds all the pots and pans and luckily finds a can opener as well. Everything was left at the car and she’s already making a checklist of things they need to bring back. The house is nice and warm though, perfectly sealed away from the chill outside, giving her comfort in a way that she wants to stay in such a place. There’s food, there’s a bed, and there’s lights.

 

She doesn’t think it’ll take too long to convince Emma to stay here for awhile.

 

She thinks the house has been good to them so far. Then she remembers the keypad from last night. While the food is cooking on low at the stove she steps out of the kitchen and walks to the back of the house where they first found the keypad. Right across from it, is a study that they didn’t notice before, but it might hold the password. She shelves that thought for now and lifts up the cover, examining the keypad again. The numbers are lit up in green, going from 0-9 with a ‘submit’ and ‘clear’ button. It’s simple; it’s something she recognizes and is familiar with because it reminds her of the security system she always had to key in whenever she made her way back to the mansion.

It’s also because of that security system that she’s wary of submitting the wrong code in case something bad happens and the whole house goes on lockdown.

 

She hears shuffling at the staircase then, and she walks back out to where the kitchen doorway is and watches Emma sleepily stomp down the stairs. Emma’s hair is a disheveled mess and her clothes are all askew but she’s radiant and Regina wouldn’t trade her for anything. Regina smiles when Emma sees her and mumbles out a greeting.

 

“How did you sleep?”

 

“Pretty good.” Emma shrugs and then leans in to give her a peck on the lips.

 

She hums, “That bed is a dream.”

 

“Maybe, but I think the company was what made it better.” And she laughs and smacks the blonde lightly, _this charmer._ She goes back to watch the pot of food and turns off the heat.

 

“Breakfast?” Emma brightens up considerably when she sees the corn soup Regina’s dividing into bowls. She nods and tells Emma to get the boy downstairs so they can all eat and Emma sprints up. She sees through the doorway as she’s bringing the bowls to the dining table, the boy sleepily but stubbornly climbing down the stairs with Emma by his side.

 

She laughs when the boy stumbles into the kitchen, one hand in Emma’s, and she leans down and kisses him on the cheek. He beams up at her with a grin that almost perfectly matches the blonde’s. “Good morning, did you sleep well?”

 

He nods furiously and she points them both to the table. He scrambles over and sits down but doesn’t eat until they’re all sitting there.

 

“I love you.” Emma says as she leans over and gives her a soft and slow kiss. She leans into it, a little frustrated at how easily the other woman can say those words to her when she’s still struggling. It’s getting close though; everytime she sees Emma she thinks those three words and she wants to say them but clams up every time.

Emma pulls her over to the food and they all sit down and start to eat. It’s so domestic, and she can’t help but look around and love it. She can only hope that every day will be like this.

 

When they finish eating she tugs Emma’s arm lightly and gestures for her to follow her. She tells the boy to stay put knowing that he will. He’s a very sweet boy and he listens very well; she thinks his parents must miss him so much.

 

She goes into the study, knowing Emma is not far behind. “There must be a key code or something around here for that keypad.”

 

She rummages through drawers and books and looks over to Emma and sees her smile. “I love that you’re still so curious about it.” Regina pouts and urges her to look, which prompts Emma to walk over to a bookcase and start taking books out and flipping through them.

 

After the fifth book, Emma puts it back in its place and stands back to survey the room. “Emma, are you looking?” Regina asks impatiently and she gets waved off.

 

“Yeah, I am.” She stands up from the drawer she’s looking through and gives the blonde a look of disbelief. Emma is just standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, not being helpful at all. “None of these books stick out so I doubt anything’s hidden in the bookcases.”

 

She raises her eyebrow. “I sense a ‘but’.”

 

Emma laughs. “ _But_ , these books look like a cover.”

 

She narrows her eyes, a little confused by what that means. “You mean they’re hiding something?”

 

Emma snaps her fingers. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. These books are boring. It’s all on herbology and biology and all the ‘ologies’, but it doesn’t actually speak of their character aside from the fact that they’re _really_ into science.”

 

She frowns—what, exactly, could all that mean? She does trust Emma’s judgement just like Emma trusts when she says she feels something is off about this house. Emma also does have a record of tracking down people. That takes a bit of human psychology. The only thing she can say for sure is that a house this clean with a couple this rich can only mean _something_ is wrong—she just doesn’t know what. And now she’s even more determined to find out what’s behind that door.

 

She looks around. There are two bookcases that cover the walls on the left and right. There’s a large office desk situated near the middle of the room and it’s the first imposing thing you see when you enter through the door. There’s a big leather chair behind the desk, and there’s a glass case with a diorama inside of it in the far left corner. The diorama appears to be a freestanding DNA model—of what, she has no clue. Emma goes over to the diorama but Regina thinks it’s a decoy.

 

From what she gathers, there’s a low possibility that the code will be kept somewhere so obvious so there must be some other place they’re not looking at. She delves back into the drawers to see if there is something she just missed.

Emma lifts up the glass case and picks up the model, turning it sideways and squinting at the middle.

 

“Hey, Regina.”

 

“Yes?” She looks up and sees Emma’s face half buried in the model and she holds back her laugh.

 

“I think I see a ‘0’ and an ‘8’.” _A zero and an eight_ , she repeats this in her mind over and over, mumbling it to herself as well. She can feel her mind zipping through options, thinking about what it could mean.

 

A zero and an eight. It’s part of the combination, she’s sure, but there are more numbers that she needs to figure out. A zero and an eight, that could be a volume number and she goes to look at the books. But then she stops because that doesn’t sound right. A zero and an eight, could it be a date? A time?

 

She scrambles over to the drawer she found filled with newspapers before. She pulls out the stack and shuffles them around looking for either ‘August’ or ‘8th’ and the stack is unordered so she does have to go through everything. Emma puts down the diorama and comes over to help. They both sort out the pile, taking out anything with those two key words and narrowing it down to a short stack.

 

As she’s manically reading through every article on every newspaper they’ve narrowed it down to, she sees movement at the door and sees the little boy peeking in. “Hello.” She smiles and the boy loses all apprehension and runs in, colliding with her legs. She thinks he’s looking a lot healthier and with more energy these days but it has only been a few days so she could be imagining it. It’s not possible for children to grow that fast, is it?

 

Emma goes over and crouches down until she’s his level and Regina can’t help but smile affectionately at the both of them. “Hey, kid? What’s up?” The boy lightly smacks a hand over Emma’s face and covers it and Regina snorts out a laugh. She can see the blonde grinning from behind the hand and pretends to bite it, nipping at the small hand without any teeth and the boy squeals out and tries to clamber up Regina’s legs to escape.

 

She picks up the boy and he curiously picks up one of the newspapers. Emma stands up as well and they all look over the newspaper. He cranes his neck and stares at the both of them in confusion. “We’re looking through these, do you want to help?” The boy nods and fidgets to get down so she sets him down gently.

He grabs the entire stack and starts to seperate and set them down on the floor one by one. It’s a clever plan actually, they will be able to get a clearer view of everything all at once and maybe be able to pick any odd ones out.

 

While she’s thinking that though, the boy stops suddenly. The newspaper is loose in a hand that’s gone slack and he’s still half crouched, half ready to set it on the floor. She glances over at Emma and they share a look of confusion before they start to walk over to the boy.

 

The boy suddenly screams before they can get to him, a scream that sounds a bit like rage with a tinge of fear, and he stands up holding the newspaper. His tiny hands clench tightly around it before ripping it apart and then he turns around and runs to Emma.

 

They share another look, both completely bewildered at what just happened, but she thinks this might actually be their clue. Emma picks the boy up and pats him on the back, soothing him as he buries his head in her shirt and she goes over to collect the pieces of the ripped paper. It doesn’t take too long to put it back together—the boy only ripped it in two—and she sees a man and a woman on the front page, posing with an award held between them.

 

_Deoxyribonucleic Acid Strengthening Award_

 

The words mean nothing to her so she goes over to the bookcase and pulls out a Webster dictionary.

 

_Deoxyribonucleic Acid: see DNA_

 

She whips her head to the diorama and then back at the newspaper and looks for the date.

 

_August 15th_

 

She has it, she has the number sequence. She rushes out of the room, Emma calling out her name and then following her as Regina strides right over to the hidden keypad. She lifts up the cover and presses 0, 8, 1, 5 and hesitates over the ‘submit’. Her hand shakes and she doesn’t know what will happen if she’s wrong. She’s so afraid of failure, afraid of things happening that can be her fault, afraid of the repercussions.

 

She feels a hand over hers and she turns her head and sees Emma smiling reassuringly at her. “Are you sure?” Emma asks and she gives an apprehensive look but nods slowly. “Okay, then whatever happens, we’ll deal with together.” Emma stabs the ‘submit’ button with her finger before Regina can protest. They hear a soft click and an entire panel shifts in the wall beside her. She jumps back when the wall door pops open a crack and immediately reaches out for Emma’s hand.

 

She thinks Emma must be a little overwhelmed, carrying the boy and also having to comfort Regina, but she feels a subtle squeeze to let her know she’s there and she knows that she will be okay. She let’s go of Emma’s hand, feeling the rush and support in her veins, and goes to the door. She sticks her fingers under the panel and wrenches it open, finding a dark and ominous staircase leading downward.

 

She is _not_ fond of basements, she really is not. It’s always dark and musty and the creaks and noises make her jumpy. She has been lucky so far, because during the Flood, majority of the basement entrances were caved-in and she never felt the need to explore them. But she’s used too much effort to get to this point and it’s too late to turn back now.

 

The boy’s reaction to the newspaper and the house before they came inside only feeds into her curiosity of this seemingly ‘perfect’ house. She has a feeling that something is wrong and she needs to find out what.

 

The boy takes one look behind him from Emma’s arms and screams out in terror as he struggles and tries to climb up the blonde even more. Emma’s eyes are wide and confused but she tries to calm the boy down, cooing and reassuring him with words like _we won’t let anything hurt you, kid_. Regina rushes over and hugs the both of them, trying to help and calm the boy down and after a few minutes they can feel him relax a little.

 

He trusts them now, and she will not do anything to betray that trust.

 

“Ready?” Emma asks as they stand at the top of the staircase staring into the darkness and she wants to scoff and say _no_. But their hands find each other again and she ends up swallowing her fears and nodding reluctantly. Emma must feel the shake in her hand so she passes the trembling boy into her arms and goes downward first. The staircase is only wide enough for one person at a time so one of them had to go first.

 

She searches the sides and finds a light switch and eagerly flips it on. The light that follows is eerily bright and blinding like a hospital and she blinks trying to adjust to it. She clutches the boy tightly in her arms as she descends and she wonders if she’s comforting the boy or if he’s comforting her.

 

The first thing she sees when she steps off the staircase is the wide open space with multiple exits; the right exit has large blocky yellow letters on top that spell _DANGER_. Which doesn’t bode well for them at all, and she starts to have second thoughts.

The whole room is clean and white and bright but it’s deafeningly silent. Her footsteps are muted on a rubber flooring and she thinks that’s odd; why would they put the effort in silencing their footsteps? There’s a pair of desks and chairs with a few stacks of papers on top and she watches Emma walk over to one desk and rifle through the papers so she goes over to the other.

 

A lot of it is just papers documenting the failures of the experiments and she scans through them quickly.

 

_03/28_

_15:06 Injected Silicon Dioxide into Subject #137’s bloodstream._

_15:21 Subject appears to be rejecting the foreign chemical and has begun convulsing._

_16:12 Subject has died._

 

None of these experiments sound remotely humane and she wonders what madhouse they’ve found themselves in. She looks over to Emma, who has her fingers clenched tightly around the papers as she reads. Her knuckles are white and her hands are shaking and Regina thinks Emma is probably reading papers similar to hers.

 

The boy struggles a bit and she sets him down; he looks happy to be on his feet but he’s still trembling and he refuses to let go of her shirt. She pats down his hair, realizing that they forgot to cut it again, and brushes his hair so that she can see his eyes. He blinks up innocently at her and she can’t help but melt.

 

She scans through more papers and they all say the same thing.

 

A subject, a chemical, a death.

 

She walks over to Emma who has set down the papers and has her eyes pinched closed like she’s in agony. Regina rubs circles on Emma’s back, hoping to bring some sort of comfort for the blonde, and she feels her relax slightly. Emma turns her head and gives Regina a small smile and she gives a small smile back.

 

“So what should we do?” Emma asks as she points to all the exits. There are 3, one for each wall with the staircase that led them down here behind them.

 

“We should stick together, no matter what.”

 

Emma nods in approval. “Good idea.” They pick the left exit— _because it doesn’t warn them of impending danger_ —and find themselves in a hallway. They can see that it’s dark ahead, which is mystifying, and as they continue down the hallway it gets darker and darker as they lead away from the first room.

The hallway is lined with glass cases; there’s nothing in them now but she thinks there used to be. There’s no rubber lining on the floors so she can hear their footsteps clearly as they echo down the hall. It’s loud, and she feels like she’s alerting everyone and everything within a 10 mile radius to her presence. There’s a loud _boom_ that resounds behind her and she nearly yelps but she does jump, the boy almost tripping her when he’s still firmly grasping her by the clothes. Emma steadies her and they share a look of confusion. She looks behind her, but there doesn’t appear to be anything, so they decide to just continue forwards.

 

When they walk into the room it’s dark. There’s a dim light source somewhere further down where they cannot see and it’s not enough to fully illuminate the dark corners of this room. She can make out the steel racks filled with all sorts of chemicals, labeled in long 12 letter names that she can barely pronounce, much less identify. This whole room is filled with steel racks and it’s probably a storage room.

 

The boy curls around her leg even more and it’s difficult to walk without tripping over him but he doesn’t want to be picked up. She suspects he wants the option to run if it ever comes to that point and she doesn’t want to restrain him when he’s feeling this scared. He whimpers more and more as they get deeper into the room and closer to the single light.

 

The light seems to be in an adjoining room, too far to fully light up the storage room, but enough to navigate through it. There’s nothing in the storage room that appears to be of interest so they follow the light.

 

When they step into the room with the single ceiling light, she doesn’t even have time to see what the light is directed at because the boy clinging to her legs begins to scream. It’s not the scared, terrified screaming from before. It’s a hysterical screaming like he’s seeing something they cannot see and the boy falls to the ground, cowering and covering his head.

She quickly goes to kneel down beside him trying to find a way to soothe his fear, not knowing what could be causing this hysteria.

 

“Regina…” She hears Emma in the distance.

 

“Not now,” she snaps; Emma didn’t sound particularly urgent so whatever it is can hold. At the moment, she has a child that needs her help and it’s the sweet boy that they’ve been taking care of these past few days. To see him in such terror hurts her heart, especially when she doesn’t know how she can help.

 

“No, I— I think I know why he’s screaming.”

 

She looks up to see what Emma is referring to and immediately receives her answer. This is a much smaller room with a chair sitting in the center. The chair resembles a dentist chair with even a tray containing a full set of tools inside.

 

She feels bile and nausea bubble up at the back of her throat.

 

The _‘tools’_ vary from syringes, to needles, to scalpels, to _saws_. There’s still blood on the tools—the user obviously couldn’t be bothered to clean them—and the leather restraints on the chair suggests that the subject had struggled, which means they were awake and alive and _human shaped_ and _oh god_ —

 

She’s glad she’s already on the floor next to the boy because her legs feel weak and she thinks she wouldn’t be able to stand anyway. She leans over the child still in the fetal position and she curls over him, wishing she could go back in time and protect him then.

 

She hears Emma walking and she looks up to see her shakily walk over to a desk with a stack of papers on it. The blonde scans the words quickly, her eyes moving left to right rapidly before they grow wide and she’s flipping through all the documents.

 

“Regina,” Emma chokes out, “this is about the _rain_.”

 

“ _What?_ ” She tries to stand up but the boy in her arms cries and whimpers and she forgoes that idea. Instead she scoops up the boy into her arms. “Take everything and let’s get out of this room, we can read it upstairs.” Emma nods and gathers everything she sees and they both head through the door they haven’t gone through yet.

 

The hallway is short and Emma stops abruptly when she first steps foot into the room. “Whoa,” she mutters, and Regina nods beside her. The room is large and wide, not unlike the first room that’s connected to the staircase, except there’s a huge glass case in the middle of it that takes up the majority of the room. There’s mirrors and rotatable walls inside the glass case and she can’t make sense of it. It feels so out of place.

 

“It looks a little bit like those mirror houses,” Emma says. When Regina continues to look confused, Emma tries to explain, “Like the ones at carnivals or amusement par— okay, you still look lost, you haven’t been to either have you?” When she shakes her head, Emma sighs, not because she’s disappointed in her, but because she’s angry she can’t show Regina all the things she’s missed. “It’s a maze, basically.”

 

_A maze?_

 

That’s curious; why would a maze be here, of all things? The boy doesn’t seem to particularly care about it, which is odd because he’s shown that he’s curious about every little thing when he was outside, so as much as she wants to believe he’s never seen it, chances are, he has. And she knows that mazes are popular with scientists, knows that they like to put rats through these types of mental tests to gauge their capabilities. What did they test and what did they put into this maze?

 

“Regina, the other door is blocked by the maze.” She turns away from the glass to see that one of the exits is indeed connected directly to the maze and they can only go through the doorway that leads them right back to the staircase room.

 

“It’s fine, we should call it a day and leave anyway.”

 

So they walk back and cross the hallway to get back on rubber flooring. There’s something wrong, however, and staring straight ahead, she cannot see the staircase steps anymore. Instead there’s a door blocking it.

 

“No, _no_ , we can’t be stuck here.” She realizes she sounds a little hysterical but with everything they’ve found so far, she is not comfortable down here and she’s willing to head back and forget this place even exists. She passes the boy over to Emma—who juggles with the documents, binders, books and the boy for a moment—and rushes to the door to see if there’s a way to get out. It’s steel and heavy, so the chances of them breaking through it or wrenching it open are low.

 

She finds writing engraved into the door, it’s sharp and neat, and appear to be stamped into the door:

 

_This door was a protective measure ordered by the government._

_Entering the code for the keypad in the room on the right will reopen this door._

 

Looking closer, she can see something faintly etched into the steel with a sharp object:

 

_The couple who lived here are dead._

_So then, who are you?_

 

She shudders; it’s possible they fell upon something that’s much bigger than the both of them and now they’re caught in the middle of it all. She turns around, sees the boy standing on his two feet again and Emma looking around, not sure what to do. The papers are still in her hand and she tells Emma to set them on the table. A recorder tumbles out from between a notebook and she stares at it, too apprehensive to hear what might be on it. Emma picks it up instead and presses the play button, and they quietly listen.

 

_Hello, this is Dr. Jekyll, and I will be conducting the cell strengthening experiment._

_This is day 1 and the cell culture has started. We’ll observe the growth for the next few days._

 

_Hello, this is Dr. Jekyll, and this is day 2. Hydrogen will be applied to the culture._

 

_Hello, this is Dr. Jekyll, day 3. The cells are already dying and are unable to regenerate._

 

_Hello, this is Dr. Jekyll, day 4, and I am restarting a new culture._

 

_Hello, this is Jekyll, day 8, the cells are dying and are unable to regenerate. Restarting new culture._

 

_Hello, day 26, cells are dying and are unable to regenerate. Restarting new culture._

 

_Day 53, cells are dying and are unable to regenerate. Restarting new culture._

 

_Hello this is Dr. Jekyll and this is day 104, Mary appears to be pregnant and I have a new idea on how to run the experiment. I will be restarting my research from the beginning._

 

_Jekyll here, day 108, the microbial culture appears to be thriving and will be applied once the timing is right._

 

_Day 130, the subject has a steady heartbeat and is now visible on the ultrasound. Bacteria will be injected into the fetus._

 

_Day 135, no signs of distress yet, subject is growing normally._

 

_Day 178, subject is strong and showing immunity to other bacteria., Study documents have also been submitted and if the subject survives birth, I will finally be recognized for an award._

 

_Day 368, subject is born and research will be continuing. The government is also funding the research now so I need to show results._

 

_Day 380, subject can survive even without human food. It can absorb the same type of bacteria as nourishment._

 

_Day 427, subject has a high regenerative cell count. The bacteria appear to be strengthening the bonding sequence of the cells which assist in healing wounds faster._

 

She presses stop on the recorder, unable to listen to any more. She can only assume the rest is just a sick documentation of every type of horrific thing done to the _‘subject’_. From all the evidence, she believes the subject was the boy. Even before birth, he was subjected to experimentation; these people never wanted to be a parent to begin with. The government is also a key factor in all this; they were funding this whole operation once the boy was born and she presumes that the government also ordered the death of the couple.

 

She picks up and flips through more of the documents, finding research notes on symbiotic bonds and bacteria. The bacteria are living creatures that thrive on anything live but die upon contact with anything they cannot eat. The species has evolved to the point where it gathers with thousands of other bacteria to form a shape best used to find and absorb nourishment.

 

“...Emma?” She can hear the apprehensive worry in her own voice and it catches the blonde’s attention immediately. Emma looks at her in confusion but she just points to the notes on the bacteria and lets Emma come to her own conclusion. It’s silent as she reads and Regina anxiously flicks the edges of the other documents as she waits in anticipation.

 

“Holy shit…” is the first thing Emma says when she puts down the papers. “This is the start of the rain monsters isn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” She points to the papers. “And you mentioned before that these talk about the rain.”

 

Emma leans over the desk, staring at the documents intensely. After a moment, she sighs. “We really need to get out.”

 

Regina’s face hardens as she looks over to the right exit. “Yes, we do, this is definitely not the place to read these in peace.”

 

She turns to the boy, realizing that she needs to stop calling him ‘child’ or ‘boy’ because this is a human, regardless of what revelations that might arise after they’ve thoroughly read the research notes. To call him anything else would do him just as much disservice as his _sperm donor_ and _incubator_ did.

 

“Hi.” She goes and brushes the boy’s hair back because as always, it’s in his eyes and she really wants to find the time to cut it for him. “How are you feeling right now?” Because he’s been quiet since the chair that they found but he looks a lot less terrified. She worries that he might have shut down but he doesn’t appear that way either.

 

He looks at her, tilts his head and nods a bit, imitating the weak smile she’s giving him and she wishes she knew exactly what he is thinking.

 

“We can’t keep calling him kid, huh,” Emma interjects and stands beside her.

 

She scoffs at the insinuation. “ _You_ call him kid, _I_ do no such thing.” They boy reaches out and tugs on both of their shirts to get their attention. She hums out questioningly but the boy just simply points at the both of them and then points at himself and then imitates a writing motion.

 

“You want us to… give you a name?” The boy nods and Emma beams down on him and ruffles his hair. He grins and bats away the hand playfully and she doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry.

 

She looks over to Emma who just tilts her head and smiles at her affectionately. “You name him, I’ll still probably call him ‘kid’ anyway.”

 

She does laugh and maybe cry a little then. “I don’t know what name will be good.”

 

Emma reaches out and gently, slowly, grabs her hand. “What was your dad’s name?”

 

She chokes.

 

“Henry.” She does cry then, tears pouring down her cheeks as she turns to the boy. “Is Henry okay?” The boy— _Henry_ —smiles then, a cute, adorably dimpled smile and she kneels down to engulf him in a hug.

 

“Welcome to the family, Henry,” she hears Emma say and she lets out a wet laugh. They’re her _family_ now; she found them in the most unconventional way but she’s just happy that she has found them and she’s never letting them go.

 

“Yes,” she says after she’s wiped her tears and stands up. She looks to the exit with much more determination than before. “And as a family, we’re getting out of this _alive_.”

 

They walk to the archway of the right exit, under the intimidating _DANGER_ sign written over it, with much more determination now. It’s a much shorter hallway than it was on the left; the floor is also still covered with rubber here so their steps are muted thuds rather than an echoing clap. It’s dark however, darker than it was on the other side of the basement, and there’s an eerie blue glow at the end of the hallway.

 

She has one hand tightly squeezing Emma’s and the other _trying_ not to squeeze Henry’s— _Henry,_ she still needs to get used to the name, but she loves it on him already.

She doesn’t know what to expect on the other side, but no matter what, she will keep this family alive or die trying if she has to. When they do walk to the end, it is most definitely not what she expected.

 

There’s _multiple Henrys._

 

 _All_ in these large glass vats filled with some blue liquid, and they’re all floating there, eyes closed, almost serene. She feels Henry’s grip on her tighten as he stands there and looks around. Are they clones of him? Or was he a clone that just managed to escape? She has so many questions and the answers were in the documents, but they needed to get out first because all the answers in the world would not be worth it if they are stuck here.

 

The room is just a long, wide hallway, and they see a keypad right at the end. There’s a rubberized path leading towards it, with vats filled with Henrys on either side. It will be intimidating but they just need to walk across and it will be fine.

 

They walk together, sticking closely against each other as they walk across in a huddled group. She can see the vats up close, they’re long, cylindrical and just wide enough to fit the small child. They don’t seem to be as big as their Henry—they look a little like the Henry they first met, malnourished and small.

 

They’re halfway there and she feels like this room is just for intimidation purposes until she hears a _click_.

 

She swings her head back and sees a large door fall down, effectively blocking their way back.

 

Then there’s a siren.

 

It’s not the rain siren; it sounds different, more like a fire alarm than anything. It’s sharp and continuous and all three of them cover their ears as they start running to the keypad. She hears a sharp _thump_ beside her as something hits against the glass in the vat and she turns her head and finds herself staring into a pair of eyes.

 

 _They’re awake_.

 

The liquid in the vats have been drained and the Henrys inside of them are starting to move one by one. She turns her head and sees that one of them already has an arm out. She’s found the one big difference between these things and their Henry. They don’t actually need to break the glass; they’re more like the rain monsters outside where they distingrate everything they touch. She hears the sound of bubbling glass and she knows that in but a few minutes, they will all be upon them.

 

“Get to the keypad!” she yells out harshly, and they all run towards it, dodging grabby arms as they run past all the glass vats.

 

Emma gets there first and she tries the combination they used at the top of the staircase. It beeps out angrily and doesn’t do anything else. They don’t have the right code, she thinks, but they don’t know any other code.

 

“Regina, what do we do?” _She doesn’t know._ She looks around in a panic; the other Henrys are physically out of the glass now and crawling on the rubber floor. It bubbles and boils and reacts how it would with the monsters and she knows she can’t touch them. She looks to her right and there’s a doorway with the words _ANSWER_ over it.

 

Emma notices it at the same time. “What kind of _sick fuck_ …”

 

“ _Language_ , Miss Swan,” she says more unconsciously than anything, and without any other choice, leads everyone inside.

 

As soon as she opens the door and steps inside though, she knows exactly where they are. “Fu—” Regina stops herself before she curses because she _just_ reprimanded Emma on doing the same thing and she needs to set a good example for Henry now.

 

They’re in the maze room they saw earlier and she _knows_ this is not the way out. But what did it mean by ‘ _answers_ ’? Is the code to the keypad somewhere in here? Was this some regular test for the other Henrys? Emma has a tight grip on Henry, trying to shield and protect him as much as she can. The door their only barrier right now and it won’t last long.

 

“Henry,” she breathes out and he smiles and looks up at her, happy with his new name, and her heart can’t stand the bittersweetness of it. “Do you know how to solve this maze?” He tilts his head at the word ‘maze’ so she thinks he’s never heard the word before. “Do you know how to solve…” she gestures wildly at the huge glass case around them, “this?”

 

He grins really wide and nods then, bursting past her and they scramble to follow him. It’s honestly an obnoxious maze; she would hate it if she had to solve it herself. There’s mirrors and rotating doors and she and Emma almost get locked out because of the rotating door. At the entrance, the door is gone and a blob of the other Henrys are crawling over each other to get through. Some are inside the maze but the— _the children_ are lost and confused and they’re far enough inside that Regina and them don’t feel too worried about meeting any of them when they double back to the entrance.

 

Henry’s leading them from corner to corner with ease and she realizes that he must have had to do this maze very often since birth; he might even be able to do it blindfolded. His early disinterest in the maze makes a lot more sense to her now.

 

There’s numbers on the floor, ‘1’ ‘4’ and she doesn’t quite understand it until the second set of numbers which is ‘3’ ‘9’. The first number is the order at which the second number has to be entered in and she already hates the bastards that subjected these poor children in this kind of sadistic test.

 

They pass a machine positioned at the end, sending out vibrations to attract the Henrys, and she’s beginning to understand how lab rats feel. The vibrations coax the Henrys into getting to the end and she shakes her head because the scientist treated them all like how she treats _monsters_.

 

They’re past the halfway point, which she knows because they’re looping back to the entrance. The other _children_ —calling them that actually might make it more terrifying but she refuses to call them _monsters_ —are all in the maze and cannot reach them. So they’re able to safely make it back without having to dodge past them.

 

When they get to the machine at the end, Henry makes sure they’re both past it before he hits a button and it glows an eerie red. It starts pulsing out electricity and she assumes it will electrocute whatever else goes past it. She also realizes that this must have been the punishment if the maze wasn’t finished on time.

This whole area of the basement is just a big test for the Henrys to test their cognitive abilities and their Henry is the only one capable of solving it. Or, _who knows_ , maybe the other ones were able to as well, but the punishment has reduced them to this crawling, groaning mess they see now.

 

She hates the whole thing and she just wants to leave.

 

They follow Henry back into the room and Henry heads straight for the keypad as if he’s done it a thousand times. She doesn’t put it past him that he might have. Henry inputs the code easily and she realizes that he might have actually known the code without going through that entire maze. They never asked and it might have also been ingrained in him to finish the maze first before inputting the code.

 

There’s a soft tone after he presses ‘submit’ and the door at the entrance to the room slides upward. She also hears another noise outside and she can only hope that it’s the door to the staircase opening.

She breathes out a sigh of relief and catches Emma’s eyes as they look at each other at the same time and Emma laughs. She can’t help but smile as well because they literally didn’t do anything this time. She gently grabs Henry by the shoulder and pulls him in to press a kiss on the crown of his head because this brilliant boy was the one that saved them this time.

 

They start to make their way to the door. The vats are all empty and their footsteps are a muted beat against the rubber floor.

 

A hand suddenly flies out from between the glass vats and she nearly screams. It grabs onto Henry and starts to pull him toward it. She and Emma both grab onto Henry and start pulling him back.

 

It moans and groans something that vaguely sound like slurred words but she can’t make out what any of it means and at the moment, Henry is her first priority. She does notice that it’s a lot more humanoid and more closely resembles Henry than the rest.

Half its face is drooping making the mouth lopsided and its legs are at odd angles. Henry’s clothes sizzle and melt as the other child grabs him by the shoulder, but Henry doesn’t appear to be in pain. However, it doesn’t appear to be letting go of him any time soon so she turns around and lifts up one of the cylindrical cases and heaves it at the other child. It turns and grabs at it, seemingly confused as to what happened and Emma quickly grabs Henry and they both run as fast as they can to the exit.

 

She sees Henry wave goodbye to the other Henry.

 

That one can speak, or sounds like it could, and she feels terrible for leaving it. But it also doesn’t seem to have the cognitive ability that Henry does and it is far too dangerous for them to take care of it when it could easily kill Emma and her. She has to focus on her own family first and foremost; it’s what she decided.

 

When they run down the hallway and get back to the first room, she yells out in relief when she sees that the door opened. Emma lets Henry down and they grab all the researcher notes and documents, then quickly ascend the stairs. She feels guilty about leaving the other Henrys behind but she wants to never come back to this place.

 

It doesn’t take long before she gets far enough up the stairs to see the inside of the house, and she’s so relieved. They all stumble out of the staircase and quickly close the door. It clicks and she’s about ready to seal the keypad along with the door.

 

She spins and jumps on Emma, her adrenaline still rushing through her veins, and Emma, wholly unprepared for the sudden weight, falls backward and she’s crying in relief.

 

She grunts when she feels a weight on top of her and turns her neck. She sees Henry there and she smiles.

 

This is her family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary is NOT Mary Margaret. The stupid fucking show had Jekyll's love interest named Mary, because THAT'S not confusing enough.


	10. The Lake

“Hey.”

 

She’s startled out of her thoughts by Emma leaning on the doorway and calling out to her. She’s in the study room downstairs with papers spread all over the desk. There’s a lot to read through, and each research paper only makes her feel more and more depressed.

 

“Hey,” she greets back and Emma walks over to lean on the desk.

 

“What are you doing still up?” Emma leans forward and brushes a few strands of loose hair behind Regina’s ear and she melts at the touch. Henry is probably still upstairs, snoring up a storm, but they love him for it either way.

 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

 

Emma raises her eyebrow and looks pointedly at all the documents surrounding her. “So you decided to spend all your waking hours on depressing papers about torture and shit?”

 

Regina sighs and leans back. “It’s a little more than that. Look.” She gets up and shuffles a few papers around, lifting them up, trying to find the thing she’s looking for. Finally, she pulls out a map and gives it to the blonde. When it’s in Emma’s hand, Regina points at the area she circled earlier. “That’s the location of the machine.”

 

Emma stares at the map and then looks up to stare at her in confusion, “ _Machine_?”

 

“Yes,” she hisses, “the rain—which is actually a type of bacteria grouped together—is generated and kept alive by the machine. After getting the right genetic makeup together to create the bacteria, a specific soundwave is needed to keep the bacteria moving. This machine creates a field around this part of the country and constantly generates this soundwave. The reason why vibration attracts the monsters so much is because we have the _possibility_ of creating a dissonance to the soundwaves—which also marks us as living, which makes us a threat.”

 

“Wait," hazel-green eyes go wide in comprehension “ _this part_ of the country?”

 

She collapses into the office chair in a huff at the question, bringing up her hands and covering her face. “There’s a machine for every country, _two or three_ if its too big for one.”

 

Emma curses under her breath and Regina nods, seconding the statement. “So the whole world was in on creating this bacteria thing, but _why_?”

 

She’s about ready to throw everything because apparently talking about this makes it even more depressing than it already is. They were betrayed by all the people in a position of power, and this ‘ _end of the world_ ’ was the result.

 

“It was some _bioweapon_. The rain specifically targets areas with a high concentration of life by using the satellites and heat tracking. The monsters were supposed to be _super soldiers_ and the governments were still trying to figure out a way to control them.” She sighs out heavily with a light tinge of aggression, “Of all things for the world to unite in.”

 

“Fucking fantastic,” Emma mutters and slumps on the table she’s sitting on. Emma taps her knees, her hands needing to do something as she looks contemplative. Regina gets up and stands in front of her.

 

“What do you want to do?” she asks and Emma gives her a confused look. “Don’t give me that look, Emma, _I know you_. You want to do something about it.” She goes and grabs the fingers that’s tapping anxiously on her knee.

 

“Regina, there’s just _too many_ machines.”

 

She shrugs, a move very unfamiliar to her so she blames Emma for the habit now. “So we just work on the one we’re closest to. The other survivors in other countries can figure it out. We need to focus on _our_ family, first and foremost.”

 

“Our family.” Emma repeats to herself. And Regina _gets it_ , Emma has the tendency to go out there and save who she can. The guilt at being unable to save Neal, being unable to save all the people at the _Haven_ eats away at her at night. She hates that she can’t save everyone, but she knows when she has to make sacrifices. In this case there are no sacrifices other than themselves and Emma is on the fence because she _wants_ to go and save the world—because she’s so inherently _good_ —but doesn’t want to drag Henry and her into it.

 

“Yes.” Regina grasps onto to both of the blonde’s hands and squeezes them tightly. “You always make the tough decisions so let me decide now. We need to keep our family alive that’s the most important thing.”

 

“But— _the world,_ Regina.”

 

“They have their own set of researchers, scientists, labs and horrifying experiences to go with it. There _are_ other people alive out there, give _them_ a chance to figure it out.”

 

Emma thinks; she thinks for a very long time. Regina can almost see the cogs in her brain spinning. And then she slumps forward, tired of everything. Regina catches her, wrapping her arms around Emma’s sturdy frame, pressing kisses into brilliantly bright blonde hair as she silently agrees to help carry this burden with her. They’re in this together, no matter what.

 

They go to bed then, fatigue from the stress and reality catching up to them and nothing can beat the sight of Henry, small frame sprawled across the sheets, feet dangling off the bed. Emma nearly cries then, nodding and muttering out that Regina was right— _”as usual, you smug woman”_ —this is something she wants to fight for. And they crawl into the bed, falling to sleep while in each other’s arms.

 

The next morning, she finally sits Henry down and brandishes a pair of scissors. Henry recognizes the tool and visibly recoils and she instantly flies over to console him. “Shh, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” she promises and she hugs him tight until she feels him relax. She pats his hair down and kisses him on the forehead affectionately. He trusts her; it’s just that some things are harder to break, especially after being traumatized.

 

She brushes his dark brown hair back a bit and cuts it until she can see his beautiful brownish hazel-green eyes. They’re very similar to Emma’s with a tinge similar to hers and he’s like their child and she loves him even more for it.

 

“There, now we can see your big, wonderful eyes, my little prince,” she says as she goes and kisses him on his now exposed forehead.

 

“Hey, looking good kid!” Emma chimes in when she looks over Regina’s shoulder and Henry grins that cute dimpled grin.

 

“Okay, we should wash up, pack up and then get ready to go.” Henry leaps out of his chair and sprints upstairs first and she laughs. There’s still no working water but there is a drain in the shower so they can use their spare bottled water and actually clean themselves in private for once. She needs to also remember to take the towels before they leave too.

 

“Told you you’d be a good mom.” Emma chuckles and Regina turns to press her lips to the Emma’s. It escalates quickly with tongues and deep explorations and she moans in satisfaction. She’s happy to forget about their future and remain blissfully ignorant and happy to be in this moment, even just for this moment.

 

When they break apart, they don’t stay too far away from each other and she can feel Emma breathing heavily against her cheek. “Jesus, Regina, I’ll never get tired of kissing you.” She smirks and brushes her nose against Emma’s jawline, landing a kiss right behind her ear. She feels Emma melt right away and she loves that she actually has this much power over someone. “Why do you do this to me?” Emma groans when she presses another kiss on her neck and she laughs into it.

 

 _I love you_ , she thinks, the words still unwilling to come out but she can at least say them in her head now. She’s scared but she knows that Emma is with her for her and not because she’s conveniently there now. Emma’s been patient and holds no expectations of her to reciprocate the feeling which make her feel relaxed and less rushed and she’s grateful for that. _One day,_ she thinks.

 

“ _Regina_ ,” Emma groans again, “do we have time to…?” Regina chuckles and pushes herself off of the clearly aroused blonde.

 

“No, we should pack up and get ready.”

 

She’s laughing and Emma growls at her and that sound should not light a fire below her belly as it actually does. She escapes out into the hall and carefully goes outside. She found some car keys in a drawer at the foyer but was unable to find any door that leads to a garage. So she thinks there is one, just not connected to the house.

 

There’s a stone tiled path that leads off of the walkway and around to the back of the house and she follows it. There are remnants of dirt and foliage but from what she knows about the bacteria absorbing living things, she knows a lot of the plant life were also devoured. She imagines the yard must have been well tended with a gardener and she misses flowers, misses the smells and sights of them.

 

She finds a building a little removed from the main house and she catches herself before she does a fist pump because _Regina Mills does not fist pump._ There’s a garage door and she knows she found the car. Considering how well preserved everything inside the house is, she believes the vehicle should still be perfectly intact. She hopes there’s some gas in there they can still use even though it’s been inside the car for months now and is probably unusable at this point.

 

She just needs the car to get them to their old car to pick everything up, as well as the extra can of gas and the tools they have to get them more gas. She goes around the garage and finds the entrance, thanking the skies that its not locked. When she enters, the building floods with light and she’s greeted with a sleek and shiny car that looks expensive and in no way capable of storing all the things from her Mercedes.

 

It’s not like she has a choice however, which is really the more depressing part, and she should have known that the rich couple that refuses to even feed their child properly would be this self-centered and showy. She hears shuffling behind her and she turns around to see Emma and Henry.

 

“That was quick.”

 

Emma shrugs. “Henry’s a good kid, and it’s just a quick wipe down with water anyway.” She nods at the car. “Sweet ride though.”

 

“I think you mean, _small_ and _loud_.”

 

Emma looks around the garage then suddenly locks eyes on something behind her, her grin growing wide and eyes sparkling with glee. Regina turns around to see what caught her attention and sees a motorcycle. “No.”

 

“ _Yes._ ” Her idiot begins walking over to it and she protests.

 

“Emma, that is in no way practical at all. We’re never going to use it.”

 

“Says you!”

 

“ _Oh_ , real mature. Are you planning on leaving Henry and I then? What is your plan exactly?”

 

“No one said you guys had to come along! I’ll just zip there and back and you won’t even notice I’m gone!”

 

Emma has her arms crossed and she’s pouting while Regina has her hands on her hips, foot tapping impatiently on the floor. Henry suddenly runs up between them and out of the corner of her eye, she can see Henry watching them in awe, his head bouncing between them as they argue like he’s watching a tennis match. Emma must see it too because she’s the first to crack a smile which causes her to laugh which also causes Emma to laugh, and Henry joins in halfway with high pitched squealing and it only makes her laugh even harder.

 

“You’re the best, kiddo.” Emma opens her arms out wide and Henry rushes towards her and jumps; Emma catches him with an exaggerated _‘oof’_ and Regina smiles, walking up to them and hugging them both. “Group hug!” Emma announces and Henry makes a noise that sounds like he’s imitating the words.

 

In the end they use the sports car. They pack up everything they need and drive near the location of their old car and cut the engine.

 

“Alright, I’m gonna scout ahead to see if the monsters are still there.”

 

Emma starts to unbuckle her seatbelt before Regina puts a hand on hers to stop her movement. “No, I’m going this time.”

 

“Wha _—_ ”

 

“We’ve been through this before, Emma, I am not fond of staying in the sidelines and you have been throwing me there much more often than I like.”

 

“I don’t _mean_ to.”

 

She smiles. “I know, but let me do this.” She has her no-nonsense voice on and she sees Emma relent. She kisses her and she tries not to think how much it feels like a last kiss and she cranes her neck to give a kiss on the cheek to Henry as well.

 

When she steps out, the air is crisper than she’s used to. She must have gotten used to the heated floors of the house and even if there is an evil lab in the basement, it’s still a good house. She just doesn’t think they should stay in there, Henry has enough trauma. She curls up more in her jacket, her neck scrunched up to avoid the wind that blows at her face.

 

She takes slow steady steps in the direction of her Mercedes even though she knows the variant monsters—yes, she’s calling them variant because contrary to what Emma says, ‘ _octopus_ _monster’_ just sounds juvenile—can see and don’t rely on vibration as much as the normal ones do. There was nothing in the research papers on those monsters, which she finds interesting, because that means the bacteria somehow evolved and adapted to the environment; it’s both terrifying and fascinating at the same time.

 

She shakes her head and keeps walking until she sees the car. Her poor car. It’s abandoned at the side of the road, still angled towards the guard rail, and the front is smashed right against it. She sighs; there’s no way of salvaging the car unfortunately. She was really hoping the damage wouldn’t be that bad but she’s going to have to give up now that she’s seen it.

 

She goes to open the door at the driver’s seat, knowing Emma is following closely behind, and pops open the trunk. She frowns as she does so; there don’t seem to be any monsters and she wonders if they were being too cautious.

 

Of course right when she thinks that, a hard slap at the backseat window causes her to jump back in surprise.

 

The monster somehow wriggled its way into the car from the passenger door she left open from before. She slams the door closed and considers running around to close the other door but it swivels to the other side and leaps out. She hates that her mind helpfully wonders and supplies with the observation that _these variant monsters are much smarter than the rest_. She shivers at the idea that these things might have developed thought.

 

It takes awhile for it to fully get around the car to where she is; its insistence on balancing on thin, flimsy tentacle legs makes her at least breathe easier at the thought that _they’re still stupid_. She needs the monster to keep up with her so she can draw it away from the car properly, so she waits there, like an idiot, for the monster to shakily slap its way towards her.

 

She briefly wonders when the monster thought it was a good idea to take human eyes. From the papers she knows there were some prototype experiments and testing; she hopes it wasn’t on actual people but she does wonder if these variant types are the results of bad testing.

She backs away slowly, glancing behind her quickly so that she doesn’t bump into anything. The monster suddenly sets itself on the ground, fed up with using its legs, and just launches itself at her. She nearly yelps as she ducks to the side and narrowly dodges the mass of destruction flinging itself at her.

 

Obviously, she can’t just slowly walk away anymore, so she breaks into a run. The monster using a variety of ways to move, bouncing and jumping as well as dragging its body using its tentacles to pull it across the floor. It’s much faster now, and she’s worried that she won’t have the stamina to keep going until Emma is done grabbing all their supplies.

 

She runs, and keeps running until her legs burn and breathing brings a sharp pain into her lungs.

 

She glances back and notices that the thing might be a little smaller. It’s completely forgone dragging itself and she realizes it’s because contact with the ground kills the bacteria; she doesn’t know whether to classify these things as smart or not anymore—maybe somewhere in the middle.

Up ahead she can see that the ground suddenly drops off and she will encounter a hill sloping downwards if she continues forward. That will only be a disadvantage for her. She’s just afraid that if she veers off path too much, Emma won’t be able to find her, but the situation has become much more dire so she randomly picks a direction and runs off.

 

The monster’s many eyes see this and it pushes itself off the ground, launching itself at her in a diagonal direction and she has to jump out of the way to dodge it this time. She falls to the floor however, and she briefly rolls before pushing herself up on her knees. She feels something hit her back before she can fully stand and she screams as she feels the acute pain of her skin melting.

 

She hears the screeching of tires and she rolls away from the monster, dry dirt coating her entire body now.

 

The car stops right before her and the backseat doors fling open. “Get in!” she hears Emma cry out and she scrambles in on her hands and knees and nearly crumples on top of Henry. The car jolts away as soon as she’s in the car and out of reach from the monster even when the back door is still wildly swinging about.

She turns around and closes it and there’s a collective sigh of relief as they drive off. She lays half her body down, Henry having moved to the far end of the car to give her room and she feels a small hand on her head. Despite her exhaustion, she still smiles at the gesture.

 

Henry whimpers and she peers up at him. “I’m fine, little prince, no need to worry.”

 

“Regina’s tough, kid, but you did good in saving her.” Emma says softly from the front and she feels the small hand start to stroke her hair and she realizes that Henry is copying what she does when she comforts him. So she leans into it, not taking his gesture for granted, but openly welcoming it and feeling Henry’s love for her for the first time.

 

It’s quite a distance before they get to the lab so she thinks it’s a good time to take a short nap. “Wake me up when you need to switch, Emma.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” She can hear the smile in Emma’s voice. “Good night, Regina.” Henry makes a noise similar to Emma’s ‘night’ and she laughs until it trails off and she falls into a soft slumber.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up to the smell of food and her stomach growls in protest. Sometimes she thinks she’s becoming more like Emma, and other times she thinks Emma is becoming more like her. Sometimes she also wonders just how appalled Mother would be if she could hear how ungracefully her stomach growls now.

 

“Emma,” she scolds when she gets out of the car to the sight of Emma and Henry heating up food. “You were supposed to wake me up so we could swap.”

 

Emma hands her a can of food when Regina walks up to her and frowns. “You were tired.” She _was_ tired, she woke up in the same position she fell asleep in and there’s a crick in her neck she’s trying to get rid of.

 

“Where are we?” She looks around and sees a lake and a pier.

 

Emma rubs her neck sheepishly as she goes to heat up another can, Henry is happily sitting on a rock, face buried in his own food. “We’re uh… kinda here already?”

 

“Emma!”

 

“I didn’t want to wake you!”

 

She groans, because she feels like she can’t really be mad at the irritatingly too-kind-for-her-own-good blonde. “You drove over 150 miles on your own! Do you have any idea how long that normally takes?”

 

Emma shrugs. “I don’t know.” She looks to Henry. “Kid, how long did we drive for?”

 

Henry looks up from his food and holds out three fingers and she’s about ready to choke the idiot blonde. “You made Henry count the minutes?”

 

Emma holds up both her hands. “Hey, we taught him time didn’t we? It’s good practice!” Regina glowers at the blonde and Emma pouts. “I’m sorry?”

 

She sighs, because Emma didn’t mean to make her upset. “It’s just that we’re a team, and I know you mean well but I don’t like it when people decide what’s best for me.”

 

Emma’s eyes widen at that. “I’m really sorry, Regina, I promise I’ll try not to do that again.” Regina nods and leans towards Emma, surprising her with a kiss, then going back to the car to eat her food in peace.

 

When they all finish their food, they scout the area. It’s a large lake with a single pier and an island of rocks sitting in the middle of the lake. She squints at the island of rocks and she sees what appears to be some sort of tunnel. She glances at Emma and sees her holding the map up, turning it left and right and tilting her head. “This should be it...” Emma grumbles and Regina points at the tunnel.

 

“Do you think that’s the lab entrance?” Emma looks up and sees what she’s point at.

 

“Maybe, we can give it a try.” They look around and find a small boat hidden behind some bushes and trees and lift it up over their heads. It’s surprisingly lightweight and they carry it with ease to the dock. They set it down rather ungracefully, plopping the boat down on the water with a loud splash. Her eyes catch a small movement but when she glances up to look, she doesn’t see anything.

 

She has a bad feeling about this.

 

Emma’s ready to step a foot into the small vessel before Regina stops her. “Wait,” she quickly says and Emma freezes there on the spot, awkwardly standing with a foot off the pier. “Keep the boat here but don’t go on it yet.” She waits for Emma to nod before she runs off to the trees and grabs the first branch she can see.

 

Running back to Emma, she sees Henry trying to recreate Emma’s awkward one-foot-in-the-air pose while Emma is holding the boat against the pier, grinning at their boy. She goes to the end of the dock and they both watch her throw the branch as hard as she can. It falls and splashes somewhere in the middle of the lake and they all watch in astonishment when the water shifts towards it, then rapidly parts, letting the branch splatter into the water.

 

“Whoa,” Emma remarks unintelligibly behind her, and she sighs and shakes her head.

 

“The whole lake has the bacteria in it.”

 

She turns and sees Emma groan at the sky, “And it attacks anything that disturbs the water.” She nods and considers all the risks. On one hand, they can forget about all this and just live their day to day the same way they’ve always had; on the other hand, they can end this nightmare once and for all and not have to fear the rain or monsters in the foreseeable future.

 

According to the research papers, the machine also affects natural weather within its force field area. The bacteria will always grow in the rain, storm, and snow, so they will end up fearing all weather except for the sun. But since the machine generates bacteria on a timer, even on sunny days, it will still ‘ _rain_ ’ and send the bacteria down on them. They can’t hide from it.

 

She thinks they need to do this, but she still wants to hear Emma’s opinion. “What do you want to do?” she asks cautiously.

 

Frown lines marr Emma’s pale face as she’s hunched over and keeping the mini boat steady. Regina gives her time, because it’s a big decision and she knows there’s a lot to consider.

Emma inhales deeply. “I think…” she begins to say quietly, “I think we need to destroy that machine.”

 

“I agree.” She looks back at the tunnel, then glances at the boat and considers how long it will take them to paddle over there. “We’re going to have to be really fast if we want to get there without the boat breaking.”

 

Emma nods, and at the same time, they turn their attention to Henry who’s been standing there quietly. She walks up to the small boy—such a small, beautiful boy— and brushes his newly cut hair back. “Henry, you need to stay here, Emma and I will be back very soon, okay?”

 

Henry’s eyes widen and he shakes his head violently. He makes an angry noise of dissent and stomps his foot. “Henry.” Henry shakes his head even harder and she kneels before him to get on the same eye level as him. “Henry _please_ , it’s too dangerous.” He starts to flail, not trying to hurt her, but trying to release his pent up frustration when he can’t communicate what he’s feeling. He makes a high pitched noise that sounds like a boiling kettle and she starts to reconsider it.

 

“Emma…” She looks helplessly at the blonde and Emma looks helplessly back. She can’t walk over to Henry because she has to keep the boat against the dock but she gives Regina a look that says she will support any decision Regina makes. She looks back at the tantrum-throwing boy and reaches out for his hands. “Okay.” Henry stops flailing and looks at her. “Okay, _okay_ , you can come with us.” He rapidly nods his head and goes to hug her by the neck and she hugs him back, tightly holding him and praying they all get out of this safely.

 

“So, you ready?” Emma asks when Regina walks up to her with Henry in tow.

 

She shakes her head. “No, but we have to do this anyway.” Emma sighs resignedly, showing her displeasure, and she gestures for Regina to carefully step inside the boat. The narrow vessel is unstable and shaky when she steps foot inside it and she has to cling onto Emma’s shoulder due to the lack of balance.

 

When she gets in with two feet, she has to keep them slightly apart and keep her hands out so she doesn’t fall. She calls Henry down and he shakily clambers into the narrow boat as well. It sloshes about and she starts to hear sizzling which panics them all. She reaches out and gestures for Emma to get in but Emma tells her to “Hold on, give me a sec” and she pulls and pushes the boat as far as she can off the pier before she jumps into it, giving it momentum.

 

The boat violently vibrates and they quickly grab a paddle each and start paddling their way to the tunnel. Each time the paddle comes out of the water, they see a chunk of it taken off, and she worries they won’t make it.

 

They’re halfway there and they lose a paddle. It’s just a wooden pole now and she throws it as far as she can. It only distracts the lake momentarily.

 

They’re 3/4ths of the way there and they hear a pop. Water begins to flood inside the boat and Emma is cursing non-stop.

 

She looks behind her and the tunnel is so close. They can’t stop now but at the rate their main source of transportation is being attacked, she doesn’t think it’ll last long before everything disintegrates. She turns back and sees Emma staring at her as she’s paddling with their remaining paddle.

 

A blink, and Emma’s eyes shift to the lake. Another blink and Emma’s staring into Regina’s eyes.

 

“ _No._ You promised you wouldn’t do this again!”

 

Emma smiles, and her heart breaks. She doesn’t want this; she never wanted this. She can’t lose Emma; she’d rather they all go down than for her to lose Emma.

 

“ _There has to be another way.”_

 

Emma stands on shaky legs and leans over to press a kiss against Regina’s lips. And she closes her eyes, her mind recognizing the need to remember, to savour. But she shakes her head after, refusing the idea, refusing the thought, refusing all the _idiotic_ ideas _stupid_ Emma Swan thinks up. The worst part is she can’t even suggest that she do it herself. She has never hated her privileged sheltered life more than she does now; she never learned how to swim.

 

“ _I love you._ ”

 

She cries, and she opens her mouth, the words _right there_ and _it’s her last chance_. But Emma dives out of the boat before she can even begin to respond and she screams instead. Emma gives the boat one last harsh kick and they speed off towards the tunnel, the water still leaking in slowly, but she doesn’t feel the boat shaking or rocking from the bacteria attacking them.

 

No, instead she watches as the water spreads out then converges on Emma.

 

She sees a wet, blonde head bobbing in and out of the water. She hears Emma’s gasping pained breaths as Emma front-crawls her way back to shore. She sees the water bubbling around her, invisibly attacking and eating away at her and it’s open season for the bacteria, the main dish being _Emma Swan_.

 

Henry whimpers to get her attention but she can’t. She sits there staring and she can’t move. Henry takes the paddle from her still form and mimics paddling with a conviction that she currently lacks. Tears blur her eyesight, but she keeps her eyes open, staring after Emma’s flailing form until she can’t see anything past the tears anymore.

Henry is so brave, and she knows that he’s upset as well—even if she can’t see. She wants to reassure him, tell him everything is going to be fine, but she doesn’t seem to have the mental capacity to do so.

 

She breaks. And she cries. Burying her face in her hands as she sobs. Henry continues to paddle them to safety, their sweet, _sweet_ boy, refusing to let Emma’s sacrifice in vain and doing what she’s incapable of doing—staying strong. She suddenly feels the boat crash and capsize onto the rocks.

 

The crash is jarring, causing them to roll out onto the rocks, and it breaks her from her silent sobbing but she’s still devastated. There’s a hole in her heart and she reaches over and engulfs Henry in a bone crushing hug. Henry lets her and she briefly wonders if he understood what just happened. She wipes her tears away and stands up, but she can’t see Emma anymore. No sight of a blonde head or any movement from the water at all.

 

The realization and the painful reminder of reality hits her hard and she almost doubles over from the gut-wrenching pain she feels deep in her soul.

 

She wants to deny it, _there’s no way Emma’s gone_ repeating itself over and over in her mind.

 _There’s no way_. She turns and watches as the boat slips back down into the water and then slowly sinks down into the lake; they wouldn’t have been able to get back with that boat anyway.

 _There’s no way._ They both clamber up the rocks and enter the tunnel; there’s a slow decline into what she presumes is another underground lab and they’re standing at the lab entrance.

 _There’s no way._ She turns around and takes one last glance over the water. Hoping, _hoping_ to catch any sign of life.

 

It’s silent.

 

She reaches out and grabs Henry’s hand, trying to regulate her grip so she’s not breaking his hand. She still doesn’t fully believe that Emma is gone, still holds on to the image that once all this is done they can put all this behind them. They begin walking inside, their footsteps echoing in the hollowed-out space. The path curves and appear almost endless but they keep going, knowing it will eventually lead them somewhere. She feels like they’re going in circles, or at least in a circular path, and she wonders if the lab is just some spiraling basement down in the middle of the lake.

 

The walls begin to converge and she finds herself in suffocatingly narrow corridors. Eventually they get to even ground and they stop walking deeper underground. Up ahead and around the curved wall, she sees presumably a room. It’s bright past the doorway, the spiraling corridor dark and foreboding in contrast. They walk through and it opens up to a wide cylindrical room. It’s white, everything is white. It’s all just this dull, pasty white colour, from the tunnel to the spiral corridors to this room.

 

There, in the middle of the room, she sees a machine. It’s a lot smaller than she thought it would be—no bigger than Henry, actually. She looks around and there’s no direct path from where she’s standing to the machine. They’re standing on a short platform with a ladder affixed to the side of it. The machine is standing on a very narrow, very tall, circular platform, large enough to hold the machine and a person next to it. The narrow platform in the middle also has a long ladder that leads up to the machine.

 

She sighs. It hasn’t even been an hour and she misses Emma’s smile, her goofy grin, her adorable antics, her warm hugs and her neverending support. She wants to get this done so she can get back to Emma; they will get out of here and live the life they always fantasized about.

 

She’s curious about the three floodgates that surround the cylindrical room and she worries if there’s some sort of trap. Emma would probably figure it out, or maybe even Regina would, if she was in the right mindset. But she feels drained. The machine is _right there_ ; she can end this madness now but doesn’t know if she can do this alone.

 

Henry tugs on her sleeves and she turns to see him looking at her. He’s trying to get her to focus, and she’s grateful for it. “I know, sweetie.” She tries to smile at him. She’s not alone; she can do this, for Emma, for Henry. She leans over and presses a kiss on the top of his head before going to lower herself on the ladder.

 

An alarm starts to go off, stopping her in her tracks. The whole room flashes red as the alarm blares and echoes within the large space. The floodgates—that she was initially suspicious of—start to lower. And to her horror, water— _water from the lake_ —begins to fill the bowl shaped bottom of the cylindrical room.

 

She looks down at the space rapidly filling with water and she doesn’t know what to do. Should she take a chance? Should she jump into the bacteria filled water to get to the machine, knowing she might suffer the same fate as Emma?

 

Just as she’s debating what to do, she sees movement from the water and monsters begin to crawl out of the water like spiders. They look different from both the normal and the variant versions and she doesn’t like not knowing what her enemies are capable of.

They all have 8 legs, they slap and climb the sloping walls without any issues, and they have a long main body and a head. The head, much to her terror, is human shaped.

 

She doesn’t want to consider the theory as to why a lot of these monsters seem to have a fascination with the human form.

 

They don’t have eyes, but they all swivel their heads toward her anyway and she glances at both the monsters and the machine. If she can get to it and turn it off, this will all go away. On the other hand, she can grab Henry and run, but she doesn’t know if she can outrun the water when the whole thing floods.

 

When she finally decides to take the chance and jump into the water, she takes a deep breath and moves to jump but is pulled up and off by Henry. She’s confused and disorientated but she looks around and sees that her movements have caught the attention of every single monster in the room and they quickly scuttle towards her, crawling vertically along the walls. She leans over and looks down the ladder and sees that Henry just saved her from one of the monsters climbing right on that wall.

There’s no way to survive. The only way this will all truly end is if she goes without any care for her own life and destroy the machine, dying in the process. She moves to get up again and Henry aggressively pushes her down—much to her shock—and turns around and jumps.

 

“Henry!” she shrieks. The monsters swivel and turn to watch the boy in the water but he doesn’t garner their attention for too long as he swims safely across. The monsters turn back to her and she scrambles up not knowing what to do. Henry seems to be safe in the water but she can’t just _leave_ him here and think about saving only herself.

 

She sees talons clawing up at the platform she’s on and she knows the monsters are upon her now. Henry is 4/5ths up the ladder to the machine, the bowl-shaped floor rapidly filling up and the water crashing into him. He almost loses his grip on the ladder once or twice.

 

She hisses when she feels a sharp sting on her ankle and she looks down to see that the human-spider monsters have swiped and grazed at her legs. It hurts; it’s the stinging pain she’s both used to and will never get used to at the same time.

She looks and sees that Henry is just clambering onto the platform, his tiny frame struggling to lift himself up, and from this perspective the machine looks bigger than him. She then has the worst realization.

 

Henry is part bacteria.

 

She feels the stinging pain more acutely now and she knows without looking that the monsters are upon her. But she doesn’t care because she’s so focused on the fact that _Henry might die_. Is it worth it? This whole trip has been just a mess and she regrets everything about it. She almost hopes she dies because she doesn’t know how she’ll live without Emma, without Henry. She will _survive_ , yes, but she won’t be _alive._

 

“Henry, no, wait!”

 

She yells and jumps back when a monster suddenly jumps in her sight right when Henry starts to kick the machine. The danger to the machine gathers the attention of the monsters again but they lose interest quickly which just shows that these aren’t sentient beings. Regina is their closest source of food, and even if they get wiped out, she’s their priority.

 

She backs up into one of the monsters, hissing from the intense pain. She flails at the monsters but her arms just go through them like molasses and do nothing to deter them. The whole room flashes for a moment and she thinks maybe the machine is destroyed but it keeps flashing and she thinks Henry’s still working on it.

 

As a last-minute decision, she thinks she will have to put her trust in Henry. She takes a deep breath and runs forward, ignoring the pain and the monster she’s running through, and jumps into the water. She keeps her eyes closed and she grits her teeth when she feels the water converge and constrict around her. At least she’ll know what Emma went through; it makes her feel a little bit closer to her.

 

She doesn’t know how long she’s there, floating, suspended in the water, the bacteria tearing into her skin, but she thinks the water must have almost filled the room by now. She then hears a muted boom and a shockwave hits her and she flies through the water and hits into the wall, knocking the air out of her. She opens her eyes on instinct and then, in a panic, closes them again, but realizes that she doesn’t feel the stinging pain across her skin anymore.

 

She opens her eyes and sees Henry swimming towards her— _he’s alive!_ —and her body screams at her for air. She gestures up to Henry and she claws up to the surface, not knowing how to swim but just wanting to survive. When she hits the surface of the water, she takes a gasping breath; there’s only a small pocket of air in this room now. She floats rather haphazardly, unable to keep herself fully afloat.

Henry’s head pops up quickly after her and he takes a calm breath as opposed to her panicked one and he goes up to her and tries to support her. She feels foolish, having to be supported by the child she’s supposed to be taking care of.

 

“Go through the gates!” she quickly gurgles out, trying not to drink all the disgusting lake water. Henry nods and he dives back down again and she refrains from groaning in order to take a deep breath and ungracefully flops back underwater. She can see Henry’s small form dashing across the water, swimming like a mermaid, and she tries to imitate but she just flails in place and she feels like a whale. But no, _at least whales knew how to swim_ , she laments.

 

She instead claws her way through the water again, her legs kicking out randomly behind her, until she gets to the floodgates and she grabs under the archway, using that to pull herself out instead. It’s much more effective and it’s certainly a lot easier to manipulate her body in water like this compared to  trying and failing to swim. She pokes her head through the gates and looks up, seeing light, and she pushes herself up, kicking off the outer walls of the lab.

 

Her lungs burn but she’s flapping her arms up like a bird to help her get to the surface faster. She can’t see Henry anywhere but she trusts that he knows what he’s doing more than she does at the moment.

 

She finally breaks the surface, half her body flying out as she takes a quick breath, before she feels herself fall back down again. She pivots her head around quickly, trying to determine the general direction of land so she can get out of this accursed lake, and she doggy-paddles her way towards it. She makes a mental note to learn how to swim if— _when_ she gets out of this, but maybe not so soon because she doesn’t want to see any large bodies of water for a long time.

 

She gets to the edge of the lake and as she pulls herself out, Henry—who’s already there—goes to help her and her tired arms lift up her heavy body and water-laden clothes. She coughs out all the water she accidentally swallowed.

 

“Emma—” is the first thing she says when she’s no longer coughing. “Henry, have you seen Emma?” Henry shakes his head and she holds in the scream that wants to erupt from the back of her throat. She scrambles up to her legs and yells out Emma’s name while jogging around the perimeter of the lake. She still clings onto the hope that maybe she’s alive.

 

She won’t believe that Emma’s gone until she sees her body.

 

 _There might not_ be _a body left,_ her mind unhelpfully supplies.

 

She runs another lap, going the opposite direction this time, and there, in the corner of her eye, she sees a dirty blonde head sprawled on the edge of the lake. Emma is facedown in the dirt with half her body still submerged in the water. “Henry!” she screams as she sprints toward Emma to pull her out. Henry immediately moves to help her and they both heave Emma out of the water.

 

Emma’s clothes are all ripped and the spots of skin she can see are an ugly red. Actually, upon closer investigation, blood starts spurting out because the bacteria dug so deep, they hit blood vessels and it only makes her panic more.

She rolls Emma onto her back and taps her on the cheek. “Wake up, Emma.” No response. “Wake up, please.” She feels for a heartbeat, and it’s faint, but she thinks Emma is _still alive_. She listens for breathing but doesn’t hear anything and she thinks that maybe something is blocking her airways, so she starts to push against Emma’s chest. _Push, push, push, blow in air_. She grabs Emma’s mouth to open it and breathes air into her mouth. She saw a woman nearly drown in a pool once and the lifeguard saved her. She mimics the movements she saw decades ago, repeats the process multiple times, but she still doesn’t get a response and she wonders if it’s too late.

 

She doesn’t stop, but she does start to cry. “Emma, _you idiot._ ” She sniffs and continues to give Emma chest compressions even though she thinks it’s useless now. “How _dare_ you die before I can even tell you that I love you?” The words flow through her mouth so naturally that it shocks her and of course, _of course_ she can say it when the person isn’t even alive anymore.

 

 _She fucking hates herself_.

 

“I love you.” She feels her already tired arms tiring even more and she presses weakly against Emma’s chest. “I love you, you idiot.” She wants to turn back time. No amount of machine-breaking chances was ever worth this; _nothing_ was worth losing Emma. She would gladly risk her life, switch places with Emma as long as _Emma is alive_. That’s all that matters to her right now.

 

“I can’t do this alone,” she whispers, a choked sob getting stuck at the back of throat. She thinks about Henry, about their coming days without Emma. Their family isn’t _complete_ without her. She goes to blow more air and continue pressing into her chest but reality is slowly dawning on her.

 

“Please don’t leave me, Emma. _You promised._ ” She gives one last hard push down on Emma’s chest and she hears the sound of water come up Emma’s throat as she regurgitates the water. It’s disgusting but the only thing she cares about right now is Emma coughing out the water. She sucks in a breath, ready to scream, to cry, to do _something_ but Henry beats her to it and flying tackles Emma.

 

Emma grunts, the remaining water in her lungs effectively beat out of her system and she hugs the screaming, crying child in her arms. “Hey kid,” Emma hoarsely comforts him. “I’m here, don’t worry.” She looks over to Regina, looking to get some help but Regina kneels there, quietly sobbing as well. “Oh shit.”

 

Emma shuffles her body as much as she can—with a boy on top of her and squeezing the life out of her—and reaches an arm over to hug Regina as well. The movement and the touch finally knocks her out of her dazed state and she weeps loudly, burying herself into Emma’s body, not dissimilar to what Henry is doing.

 

Emma gives up trying to support them all so she collapses and lays on the ground with her two family members on top of her. And Regina feels Emma laugh and smile, hugging them both tightly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In one variation of Emma sacrificing herself and jumping into the lake:  
> Emma says “I love you” and Regina screams “FUCK YOU” 
> 
> If this was a movie, this would be in the blooper reel. I also originally made Regina go through the 5 stages of grief much earlier on, but then started her 5 stages again while she tries to resuscitate Emma, so I had to go back and make Regina deny everything instead. Which worked out in my opinion. I think you don't really want to believe someones gone until you see it with your own two eyes.
> 
> The lab was also supposed to be MUCH MUCH bigger, but I figured they already went through a lab, and I didn't actually create a floorplan for the lake lab lol. All my concept art I drew for the place was actually all on the lake lmao and how detailed the machine was (which I'm sad that I never described here but oh well). But I think it works a little better to think that there was some inconspicuous spot picked randomly, everywhere, for this little capsule like place to hold this destructive machine.  
> Btw, it's in a shape of a half capsule (like the gel ones you swallow).


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally here. The end. Omg. I went on quite a journey writing this and I hope you all went on a journey reading this as well. Different journeys but oh well xD an experience nonetheless.

Screams.

 

She jolts awake and scrambles up out of bed, her heart pounding in her ears. She runs in the direction of the screams and tears open the door.

 

But instead of the horrors she expected to find, she’s greeted with the sight of Henry and Emma, playfully spraying each other with water while standing near the waterfall. Her shoulders fall as she releases the tension and she wills her heartbeat to regulate. Emma notices her and turns.

 

“Hey,” Emma greets her, walking up to her and giving her a morning kiss. “Sorry, did we wake you?”

 

She hums as she gets lost in the kiss; she hasn’t gotten tired of them yet and she thinks she never will. “I heard screaming,” she confesses and Emma immediately understands and wraps her arms around her. She melts into the embrace and sees Henry run up to them.

 

“Mom!”

 

“Good morning, my little prince!” Emma lets go and Regina barely has to lean down to press a kiss on her little boy’s forehead because he’s so tall now. Henry has been slowly learning how to speak and they’ve never been happier since he started calling them his mothers. He’s got a slight lisp but they never fault him for it.

Henry goes to hug them both and she’s always so surprised when he initiates affectionate contact. She knows it's because he’s been deprived of it for so long, but she always had this misconception that children didn’t like to show affection. She hopes it keeps and that Henry doesn’t go through his ‘ _teenage years_ ’—as Emma calls it.

 

Her little boy turns and runs back into the water; after weeks staying at Moss Falls, he still hasn’t grown tired of it. “Feeling a little better?” She looks and sees Emma smiling at her and she falls back into strong arms.

 

“I thought we were getting attacked again.”

 

“I know.” She feels a hand rub soothing circles on her back and she melts. It’s so peaceful here—even though she’s still unaccustomed to it—and they were lucky to find a nice cabin in the middle of nowhere. The rain may have destroyed the majority of civilization but it left the areas that were void of people completely alone.

Emma squeezes her shoulders lightly and presses a kiss against her head. “Those potatoes are growing nicely, by the way.”

 

“Oh?” She’s happy with the news because their supply of canned foods is definitely running dangerously low. It will be a huge relief once they can start growing their own plants and vegetables. She’s already found and planted a few potatoes, garlic, carrots and a few other vegetables that managed to survive for over a year.

 

“Yeah, maybe one day we’ll finally get to eat mashed potatoes again.”

 

“Emma, that needs a lot of butte—”

 

“ _Shhh_ , let me have this.” She laughs and doesn’t say any more, content enough to just lean against the woman she loves and watch their son.

 

He hasn’t had any side effects from losing the part of him that had the bacteria and they think—after thoroughly going through all the papers—that it’s because the bacteria was just strengthening his body and keeping him alive. Otherwise, he would have died years ago from neglect, and to that, she can’t help but feel a little grateful to the strengthened cells because they would have never gotten the pleasure of meeting this sweet boy if he had died.

 

“Do you ever wonder how the Flood even started?”

 

She hums. “I didn’t before, but I have thought about it recently.” She glances up and sees Emma looking at her with a raised brow. She rolls her eyes. “It’s similar to how the monsters worked; the bacteria would group together as a way of survival. Do you remember the mammoth type we saw, or the lake?”

 

“How could I forget,” Emma mumbles and she laughs.

 

“Well, the Flood was just like that, but on an even bigger scale. The machine was able to reproduce the bacteria periodically, which is why we had a few months of ‘rain’ first. The bacteria also bonds well with natural water and uses it as a way to navigate without dying; it also uses water as a protective layer of coating. Some of the bacteria must have trickled into the ocean, bonding with the molecules. Once there were enough generated, it moved the ocean onto land, creating the Flood.”

 

Emma makes a face then. “So then why did the Flood stop?”

 

“It broke apart.” She laces her fingers together and then splits them. “The bonds that kept the bacteria together were broken when too many of them died after having contact with buildings and other materials. In the end, the ocean went back to where the ocean belongs, leaving clumps of the bacteria together, which is how we got the monsters.”

 

Emma is silent for a while before she leans down and surprises her with a kiss on her mouth. Regina laughs out, “What was that for?”

 

“You’re so smart, smartest person I know, and I’m a little disturbed at how long you must have thought about this.”

 

She laughs again and smacks the blonde lightly on the shoulder and Emma retaliates by nipping at her nose. She yelps and repeatedly smacks her insufferable idiot. Henry chose this moment to jump out of the water and run up to them. Even if he isn’t part ‘rain’ anymore, he still has an affinity for water.

 

“Ma, I’m hungry.”

 

“What!” Emma yells out incredulously and Regina chuckles at the blonde’s antics. “You’re hungry?!” Henry giggles and nods vigorously. “We gotta find you some food stat, kiddo, before you starve to death!” Emma releases her and picks up the growing boy—he’s going to be taller than Regina soon—and goes to find some food. She watches as they run to the garden and Emma shows him how to correctly twist and pull the carrots. She’s smiling again; these days it’s hard for her not to smile.

 

Her stomach growls and she realizes she’s a little hungry herself. She heads back inside and walks over to the kitchen counter, grabbing from their dwindling supply of cans and preparing to heat it up. She hears the other two stomping back inside and Emma gently telling Henry, “Go show Mom the carrots you picked.” Her heart fills with so much love whenever she’s called ‘mom’, so much that it hurts sometimes.

 

“Mom, look!” Henry runs up to her and shoves the carrots he picked up to her face and she pushes them away a bit so that she can see.

 

“Wow, Henry, good job!” She pats down his hair because Emma obviously ruffled it. It always seem to stick up on all sides and they should head out at some point to find a comb or something. She tells Henry to put the vegetables on the counter and he unceremoniously drops them there then runs off to play again. She shakes her head and laughs; he has so much more energy compared to when they first found him.

 

She sees Emma smile at her and she smiles back, completely at ease and content with her life.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

Emma walks over and embraces her and she openly welcomes her touch. They kiss, long and passionately, tongues dancing and waltzing together. They’re in sync, and she can almost hear music, a _harmony,_ a _melody_ of their passionate culmination. And she’s happy, _so happy_. Her heart can’t take any more.

 

“I love you,” Emma states when they break apart.

 

And she cries, because apparently her heart _can_ take more. “I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for going on this journey with me, with Emma and Regina and Henry, and I hope you all enjoyed this fic because it really took a really long time.  
> I also hope you all read **soundslikehope** ’s because holy shit, I would not have finished this thing without her, **delicatepoem** ’s, **gaypanic** ’s, **inthename** ’s, **nulcoal** 's and **moonlitrambling** ’s. And a big thanks to my 2 cheerleaders.  
> As much as a _headache_ SQSN3 was for me, I met so many friends and I’ve messaged more people on twitter over the past month than I have over my entire life.
> 
> Also, be sure to check out **powerfulmagics** ’s accompaniment art for this fic, whom I gifted the fic to.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m gonna leave these notes I had for this fic here as an extra bonus haha, these were the notes I kept to kind of build the story:
> 
> *Note: I have no idea how old Henry is now. He’s probably like 10, with the mentality of a 5 year old but with the traumatic mental scars of a 40 year old
> 
> **Note: Every country has their own machine, Emma and Regina only turned off the one for US. There were more than one scientist family and most of their lab/houses were by the ocean. So yes, it was a coincidence, but a plausible coincidence
> 
> ***Note: GIANT SWARMING BACTERIA - MICROBES. In essence, the water are moving microbes communicating with each other, the monsters are just more active bacteria, but it’s basically just bacteria at its basis and vibration causes it to seek out sustenance. However, on contact with anything other than living cells (so buildings or material) it will dissolve and die
> 
> ****Note: Robin is the ex-husband, Hyde is actually the one that killed Jekyll lmao  
>  
> 
> Also, for the last tagline.  
> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rainworld [Fanart]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770286) by [powerfulmagics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerfulmagics/pseuds/powerfulmagics)




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